Ice in July
by Julia-Caesar
Summary: Confusion. Anger. Insanity. Determination. "If you want my forgiveness, you'll help me find a way to save District 13." "Well, how am I supposed to help when I'm chained to a wall?" "Get unchained to the wall." Mid-Mockingjay Peetniss, Peeta/OC friendship
1. Chapter 1

**Oh gosh. Ok. So this is my first fanfic for The Hunger Games… Gosh, I'm so scared. But it's always scary to post for a different fandom, isn't it? Regardless, I am afraid. Okay so, quick reminder/notice/memo:**

**Now, the reason I've updated so much today (which you probably didn't notice unless you have me on Author Alert) is because today is the 1 Year Anniversary of the day I first saw Wicked! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**

**Okay, so basically, a few months ago, I decided that to make today super special for not only myself, but for the Fanfiction community in general, I would post/update everything that I'd written as far as Fanfiction. Yay!**

**ALRIGHTY THEN. Now this fic… has been my baby for the past few months. I originally got the idea after trying to figure out how the jigglypuff Peeta knew about District 13 and all that stuff. And that's how Summer came into existence, wooo. I wrote like, five chapters, and then realized how similar she was to how I depicted Leslie from Bridge to Terabithia… which Josh Hutcherson just happens to be in. Total coincidence, I swear. Anyway, I've work really hard on this, and I really like it, and I hope everyone else who reads it does too!**

**Okay, now you can read the story:**

"Peeta."

A quiet groan comes from the darkened cell.

"Peeta, are you awake?" I whisper. As my eyes adjust, I see his head snap up at my voice.

"Katniss?" I hear him growl. "Finally come to kill me?"

"No," I reply hurriedly, "it's not Katniss."

"Then who is it?" Peeta asks, his voice slowly going back to normal.

"My name is Summer," I answer him. When he doesn't say anything, I slowly approach him to let him see my face. But when he sees it, he reacts as everyone does.

"What happened to your face?" he gasps. My hand reaches up to stroke the scar that slashes across my face, from my eyebrow to my jaw.

"Paper cut," I lie in a whisper, cautiously sitting down beside him, not worrying about getting mud or blood on my dark blue dress. His face twists into a look of anger. I see him pull against the chains holding him against the wall, but only to succeed in making himself bleed.

"Don't do that!" I scold him. "You'll just make it worse."

"Why are you here?" he asks, ignoring my disapproving eyes. "Are you from the Capitol?"

"I just thought you might like some company," I lie with noticeably false enthusiasm.

"You didn't answer my question," he accuses.

"I never said I would," I retort, raising an eyebrow.

"How did you get down here?" he asks after a moment of silence.

"It was simple enough," I say, brushing it off carelessly. It doesn't matter how I got down here. Nothing that Peeta needs to know, anyway.

"It's not real," I blurt out before he can ask another question. "What they tell you about her."

"They don't need to tell me. I've seen it for myself."

"The stinging, the glassy fog, and the unusually vivid pain for something as distant as a memory? Those experiences can only be obtained through tracker-jacker venom. Trust me. It hurts, and for a while it seems _so real_, but it's all in your head," I say with a grimace on my face.

"What makes you so sure?" he asks emotionlessly. I silently brush my short blonde hair to one side, revealing the bullet-sized scar on my neck.

"This is the only scar from them left. But a few years ago, they were everywhere. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror-"

"What's your point?" he snaps. I look at him curiously for a moment. This is definitely not the boy from District 12 that people from all of Panem fell in love with during the Hunger Games this past year. Of course, I'd known from the beginning that there were no star-crossed lovers from District 12. Only a girl who pretended to love so that she and the boy could survive, and a boy who didn't need to pretend.

To be in love, that is.

"My point is that you're confused." When he looks at me in bewilderment and slight anger, I go on. "Miles and miles away, there is an army forming. An army that is working to bring down President Snow and the entire Capitol with him."

"How do you know that?" He doesn't look at me, but instead moves his stunningly dull blue eyes to the far wall. I frown at him.

Obviously, I didn't expect for him to listen with the eagerness of a child listening to a fairytale, but this was frustrating nonetheless. But I'd been in his position before. Well, maybe not his _exact_ position, but I'd been tortured with Capitol devices.

"My father… he's very in-touch with what's going on throughout the country. That, and Katniss and the rebellion she's leading are all that anyone's talk about," I say matter-of-factly. Once again, I see Peeta's eyes go dark and his strain against the shackles around his ankles and wrist, but I don't comment on it this time.

"She's doing it for you. I've heard she's pulling some major strings to get you out of here,"I inform him, smirking slightly. But Peeta refuses to be pulled from his Capitol-induced haze.

"No, she's only thinking of herself. She's a monster… A mutt. She'll do anything to get what she wants. That's what she was created to do: Cause pain and misery for everyone around her," he says.

"The Capitol planted that in your mind, Peeta!" I say with a tone of urgency in my voice. "You love Katniss. You _love_ her."

"Maybe I did once, but only because she deceived me," Peeta protests blankly.

I pause before saying, "And you know this from watching clips of her trying to kill you, that the _Capitol_ showed you? The memories that are altered after you're injected with tracker-jacker venom that the _Capitol_ supplies? This is all the _Capitol's_ doing, Peeta. You're interpretation of Katniss as of now is completely _Capitol_ manufactured!"

"How the hell do you know all of this?" he snapped, his eyes suddenly darting from the wall to mine. Not unusual for someone covered in sweat and blood, he looks absolutely pale with dark circles under eyes, which doesn't look good next to a million scars and burns.

"You look dehydrated. Wait here," I tell him, though I don't have the faintest idea of where he could go, being chained to the wall and whatnot. But I get up quietly and go out into the steel, unguarded hallway and grab a canteen filled with water and a hand-towel. I hadn't been exactly sure how Peeta was being treated down here, but I figured it wasn't good. When I return to him, he's slumped down tiredly against the wall so that it can't possibly be comfortable for his neck.

"Sit up," I request, kneeling beside him. He protests weakly as I pull his head forward slightly, but I can tell that it's mainly just a pride thing. _It's amazing_, I think to myself, _how even when beaten senseless, man can still be worried about his pride._

But I quickly brush these thoughts aside as I help Peeta drink the water.

"Who are you?" he mutters when all the water has been emptied from the canteen.

"I told you. My name is Summer," I repeat, beginning to dab some of the blood off of his forehead with the towel.

"That's a name. It doesn't tell me anything," he disagrees weakly. I smirk slightly as I resume my previous position beside him. I can tell that he's worn out from the recent blood loss and straining against the shackles.

"I'll have to see if I can get something for your wrists," I say, deflecting his questioning looks.

"What's your favorite color?" he asks, looking back at the wall now. I don't understand why he's bothering to ask me such a trivial question, but I reply nonetheless after thinking about it for a moment.

"Pink," I say, and Peeta lets out a strained laugh.

"What?" I ask, somewhat offended.

"You just don't strike me as a pink loving girl," he says casually. My eyebrows furrow at this.

"Not a bright, absurd pink," I clarify quickly. "Pink like… like the color the clouds get during the sunset." I see him nod thoughtfully.

"Okay," he accepts. "Favorite dessert?"

"Chocolate pie… with extra whipped cream on top," I add. This pattern goes back and forth for about twenty more minutes; him asking random, idle questions, and me, answering them as truthfully as possible.

"I have to go," I remember suddenly. I see a flash of disappointment cross Peeta's face and rush to say, "I can try to come back tomorrow night… if you want."

"Yeah," he nods, "that'd be nice."

For a split second, he almost smiles, and my heart leaps. Finally, someone wants me to come back. There's somebody in the world who would notice if I disappeared. The feeling fills me; the feeling of finally having something resembling a friendship. And while I understand that Peeta's tired and probably in too much pain, emotionally and physically, to express his thanks, I know that he's grateful.

"I'll bring more water next time," I promise. I grab the now empty canteen and leave the room without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

When I return the next night, Peeta is in way worse shape than he'd been yesterday. His face is swollen, there's blood running down his arm, and I notice a throbbing burn on his ankle.

"How bad is it?" he murmurs when he sees me. I shake my head.

"You poor thing," I just say quietly. I see him attempt a smirk, but his face scrunches up in pain. We repeat the process of me dabbing up as much blood as I can without making him look suspiciously clean, and tonight I have to actually prop him up against my arm before I can get him to drink any water.

"It's getting worse," he says tiredly. "I mean, it was bad before, but now I think they might actually kill me."

"No, they won't kill you," I disagree. "They want you to be found…Rescued. If they wanted you dead, trust me, you wouldn't have made it out of the arena alive."

"Why were _you_ tortured?" he inquires. I sigh deeply. I'm not ready to share what happened to me, not fully anyway. But I suppose I owe him some form of explanation.

"The Capitol," I begin, "is never in the least bit merciful. It will do… anything. _Anything_, to get what it…he… they want. And I got in the way of that."

"What did you do?" he presses on. I shake my head.

"Not tonight. I've suffered enough already," I grimace.

"Why? What happened?" he asks.

"Well, just before I came here, I went to go visit the other victor that came from the arena with you, Johanna Mason? Well, I was going to just have a nice, calm, chat with her, maybe fix her up a bit."

"And what happened?" he questions.

"She went all coo-coo bananas on me and bit my thumb," I remember, lowering my face to my hands in mock shame. When I look up, I see Peeta softly grinning at the wall, no doubt imagining a rabid Johanna Mason biting my thumb as I try to clean some dried blood off of her face.

"It was really scary. I may be permanently traumatized. I'll bet she gave me rabies or something," I say as seriously as I can, but my efforts are destroyed by the giggles escaping my lips. He grins in return, and we sit in silence for another few moments.

"How old are you?" he asks me through his fading grin.

"I just turned fifteen last week," I answer.

"Really?" I nod. "You seem more like… ten or something."

"What makes you say that?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair.

"It's really just your entire essence, I guess," he shrugs. "You just seem… peaceful and almost happy, which is strange considering that after almost having your thumb bitten off, you're in a dark, cold, and dirty cell with a psychotic teenage boy."

"Well, of course, I'm almost happy. As you've noted, Johanna _didn't_ bite off my thumb, which I think is an honor," I say matter-of-factly.

"This is the part where you tell me that I'm not _that_ psychotic," Peeta says.

"Lying will get me nowhere," I reply, smiling softly.

"I am I really that far gone?" he asks. I think about it. I never knew Peeta even existed until he was reaped for the Hunger Games, and I only finally met him just last night when I came to visit him. So how was I to know just how far he was gone?

"I don't think so," I tell him, shaking my head. "But you've definitely changed, I think. I only just met you last night, though, so who knows?"

"Why are they torturing me?"

"Because they want Katniss to come and get you," I whisper. In a flash, Peeta is on his feet, pulling against the chains fixed into the wall.

"Peeta!" I exclaim, also jumping up.

"She's gonna come and get me! She's gonna kill me!" he screams, struggling against his restraints.

"Peeta, calm down! She's not here!" I yell at him. I try to push on his chest, urging him to sit back down, but he pushes me down. I stand up again, but keep out of his reach.

"Peeta, it's just me! I won't hurt you!" I continue to yell. It's only after five minutes of me yelling this that he stops struggling against the wall, and drops to the ground. We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us daring to speak.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, a shocked and sad expression covering his face. "I shouldn't be- I mean, you shouldn't have to-"

"It's fine," I assure him quickly, though I can't manage to wipe off of my face what I figure must be the same expression he's wearing. "It's not your fault. It's the Capitol's."

"I don't wanna be like this. Even if Katniss _is_ trying to kill me, I shouldn't be attacking you. You're just trying to help me," he protests.

"She's not trying to kill you," I remind him tiredly. "And you weren't attacking me. You just had a white-in."

"A what?" he asks, giving me a weird look.

"Oh, it's the word I made up for the trance that people go into when they're affected by the jabberjay venom. Because it's the opposite of a blackout because instead of passing out or whatever, your senses are heightened by like, a hundred percent," I tell him, smiling at my cleverness. He continues to stare at me blankly.

"A white-in?" he chokes out, giving me a small smile.

"I'm kind of a genius," I grin.

"How did you…" he trails off.

"What?" I ask.

"How do you know so much about what's going on down here?"

"Oh, um," I hesitate, "I've been coming down here for years. After I'd completed the majority of my recovery, I started coming down here to see if it affected other people the same way. Like a science project."

"So that all I am to you?" he questions angrily. "Just a subject in your science project? Just a pawn in your own personal Games?"

"No, Peeta, that came out wrong," I protest swiftly, shaking my head. "At first, I'll admit, my reasons for visiting the people down here weren't exactly selfless. But now… It's hard to explain. Over the past few years, I've gotten quite lonely. And by coming down here, I can meet new people and try to help their humanity survive as long as possible. Hardly anyone here knows who I am, and for the most part, they're open to making a friend, as opposed to the people on the surface who scatter at the sight of me."

"Why?" he asks, a tinge of anger still in his voice.

"Because of who I am. It's just… nobody respectable would be my friend because well… because I spent years of my life down here for treason. And I can't become friends with anyone normal because… there's nobody normal in the Capitol, period," I grimace. I see Peeta's face soften in the darkness.

"And you won't tell me what you did?" he inquires, his voice quiet.

"Maybe another night," I answer. "It always makes my mood go sour. And then where would we be?" I crack a smile at him before glancing at the watch of my wrist.

"Time to go already?" His face drops.

I look at him sadly. "Yeah, but I'll try to make it back again tomorrow night. Hopefully without more bite marks on my thumbs," I say.

"Alright then, see you tomorrow," he replies. Once again, I gather my things and shuffle toward the door with my arms full. Before I close the door behind me, I turn around and smile at Peeta.

"Try to get some sleep," I tell him.

"Uh huh," he murmurs, because we both know that if he does sleep, it won't count for anything.

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><strong>Please review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

The next night, I'm surprised nobody hears me as I stumble nosily toward Peeta's cell, arms filled with bottles of spring water and three hand towels. I slam unevenly into the walls several times as I hurry down the last flight of stairs to the bottom floor that the elevator doesn't reach. When I get to the door, I have to turn the knob with my elbow and push it open with my back. After years of sneaking around down here, I'd had plenty of practice with having to open doors and cabinets with parts of my body other than my hands.

However, nothing I'd ever experienced before could have prepared me for the scene in front of me.

Peeta lays completely unconscious, crouched into a tight ball. Burns cover his arms and chest, there's another bullet-sized hole in his arm, bleeding at a frightening rate, and his entire face is covered in his blood from the gash on his forehead. I can tell from the pool of blood around him that there's more damage done than I can see.

"What did they…" I whisper, but I can't finish. I don't _want_ to know. I don't even want to _think_ about knowing what they did to him. The very _thought_ of what they might've done to him makes me nauseous.

As I slowly approach him, he doesn't stir. Nor does he move when I place his head in my lap and begin to dab water on his burns and clean off some of the blood. I might believe him to be dead if it weren't for the heavy, uneven breath coming from his lips and the rise and fall of his chest. I wrap his arm in one of the towels and press the other towel against his forehead.

"No more," he mutters in his sleep, so quietly it almost wasn't real.

"Shh," I calm him. "It's alright, Peeta. It's Summer. I'm just cleaning you up a bit."

Now, even as I spoke these words, I knew I was downgrading it. To say that I was '_just'_ cleaning him up _'a bit'_ was hardly the correct way of phrasing it, on account of the fact that there was no possible way to only go halfway with most of this. I couldn't get all the blood and dirt off of him, of course, because that would seem extremely suspicious. And if the guards found out I'd been coming down here for as long as I have, I'd be killed without a second thought. And then who would take care of the people down here?

Tonight, Peeta doesn't have any rage attacks, he doesn't wake up, and I'm not bothered with questions about my past. But I am bothered with my thoughts. My memories. Memories of suffering in my cold, dark, and dirty cell, with nobody to hear me scream and strain against the chains holding me to the wall. Nobody to come and clean my face after I fell unconscious from the pain. And nobody to even know that I was down here in the first place.

I sit with Peeta's head in my lap again, and hold the damp towel firmly to his forehead. Every few minutes, his hand twitches or he mutters something about Katniss. His voice isn't angry when he mutters under his breath, but worried. There's a sense of urgency to it.

I can't help but feel jealous of Katniss. Sure, she's had to be in the Games… twice. But she's got Peeta… Well, she _had_ Peeta. And even if she _doesn't_ love him, she's got him to love her. She's got someone to fight for her. Honesty, there's not a doubt in my mind that Katniss could've won the first Games, whether or not she'd found Peeta, slowly dying, in that mud. By that point, he was really no help in fighting or traveling. But he was there for emotional support, I suppose. And he definitely succeeded in winning over the Capitol for both of them.

What I wouldn't give to have someone look at me the way Peeta would look at Katniss… But I figure there's no use in looking. The scar on my face usual does a good enough job of scaring away anyone who isn't mentally insane… or blind.

I tell Peeta all of this, even though he's knocked out. It's just nice to finally speak of my insecurities aloud to someone other than myself. Even if that someone can't hear me.

"You'll figure it out soon enough," I promise him. "And you and Katniss will finally be together."

When I glance at my watch, I see that it's about time for me to leave again, so I dab at Peeta's wounds one last time. Then I quickly, and just as clumsily as before, scurry out of the room for the third time since Peeta had arrived in the Capitol.

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><p><strong>Short chapter, I know, but there's plenty more to come! Please review!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is dedicated to xFroggyFernyCabbagex for having insanely ridiculous predictions and whatnot. 3**

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><p>When I enter Peeta's cell the next night, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or shocked that he is in the same position as he was the night before. The difference, or rather lack of, was that his physical state hasn't been altered at all. Which means he wasn't tortured today. I promptly decide that I am relieved when I realize that I probably couldn't have grabbed enough towels to fix him up if he <em>had<em> been.

I immediately shuffle toward him with my bottles of water and notice his eyes fluttering open.

"Morning, sunshine," I smirk, checking his gory wounds from yesterday. They seem to have scabbed over for the most part, but they looked like they might tear if Peeta moves too much. I make my mind up right then to avoid anything Katniss related. At least for tonight.

"How long have I been out?" he grumbles sleepily through his pain. I inspect his more fatal burns and, seeing they look uninfected enough, answer him after a minute of silence.

"All day, I think. I came by last night and you were completely out. You look better tonight though," I say, pouring some water onto a towel.

"Why didn't they do it today?" he asks, keeping his eyes closed as I pat on his forehead with the damp cloth.

"It's like I've said before. They want you injured and emotionally displaced, but not dead. Otherwise, they'd have wasted a load of time on torturing you," I reply hesitantly. This is not going in the direction I wanted it to. Too close to the whole Katniss situation. Too close for comfort.

"Will you tell me why you were down here, tonight?" I hear the hope in his voice. His curiosity. I don't know why he'd want to be bored with the dreary details of my past. Actually, I do know why. It's not that he really wants to know. But it's that he doesn't want to _not_ know.

Which I can respect. But that doesn't change anything.

"No," I tell him shortly. His face drops slightly, but not much considering that it probably hurts to use his face too much. Which is really a shame. He's got a nice face.

"What if I guessed it? Would you tell me then?" he asks, still hopeful. I bite my lip. There's no way he could guess correctly. Right?

"Sure, why not," I say, deciding to humor him.

"Hmm," he hums as he thinks and I roll my eyes. "You come from a faraway land with talking squirrels and the Capitol captured you for your information. But ever loyal to your country, you refused to give up your secrets so they tortured you by putting you in a room with a million _rabid_ squirrels."

I can't contain my laughter when he finishes. When I look over at his amused face, I shake my head.

"Not even close," I giggle through my hysteria.

"Um," he thinks again, "you're a mermaid. You come from a large body of water beyond Panem. You were the adored and praised princess of the mermaids. When a hurricane hit in the outer Capitol area, you were washed up on shore and captured. You were tortured during scientific experiments to see if you were dangerous. When the researchers decided you were harmless, they locked you up below the surface so that you wouldn't tell the world what they'd done to you."

Before he'd even started his second sentence, I was so far-gone in laughter I thought it might actually alert guards on a different floor. And these were soundproof walls, so that was saying something.

"Why-" I choke out through my hilarity. "Why would you even… say that out loud? How could I… possibly… be a mermaid?" He shrugs in response.

"It's just a guess. I have to think about everything, considering you're from the Capitol and all," he says.

"Not all people who live in the Capitol are freaks," I retort good-naturedly. I'd be lying if I said that I thought people in the Capitol were all normal though. Apparently the latest trend was dying your knuckles fuchsia… I don't even know what that means.

"So is that all the guesses you've got?" I ask.

"You're not a mermaid?" he checks, slightly squinting his eyes at me.

I shake my head.

"And you're not queen of the squirrels?"

"Nope," I say, popping the 'p.'

"I give up for now," he sighs. "But I'll figure it out eventually. And when I do, you are gonna feel so stupid." I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Peeta, if I feel even in the least bit stupid, you'll feel like a complete bozo, trust me," I promise. We sit in silence a few moments, leaving the conversation behind us.

"What's your greatest fear in life?" Peeta whispers through his barely open mouth. I can tell that he's straining to stay awake by the way his eyes are scrunched together in the corners.

"Thinking about myself," I reply in a low voice.

"What? How can you fear thinking about yourself?" he asks, shock radiating from his tone.

"For one thing, I find it selfish. When I think of myself, and I get bigheaded, I stop thinking of others. And for another thing," I say while I shrug, "I don't really like myself."

"That's crazy, Summer. Why wouldn't you like yourself? You're like… perfect or something," he objects, mumbling the last part so low I barely hear it. I blush lightly, but I ignore it when I realize that I'm not perfect. Not even close. But I say nothing, hoping he'll move on like he usually does, but my silence is only followed by his silence. He's obviously waiting for an objection. And the look in his blue eyes as he stares at me only confirms this.

"Why aren't you arguing with me?" he finally asks, like I'm doing some wrong.

"What's arguing with you going to do?" I snap. "I read the books. I watch the movies. I know how it ends up when a boy says that a girl is pretty, or hot, or perfect, or beautiful. The girl objects, the boy proves his point by kissing her, and using other seemingly romantic gestures, and they live happily ever after."

"Why are you so against happy endings?" Peeta grumbles at me.

"I'm opinionated," I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"So you don't ever want to get married and have a family? You don't want friends? You don't want to be happy?" he begins to question angrily. I'm not particularly angry at him right now though. I can understand how frustrating and infuriating it can be when someone has a chance at something you don't have, and they turn it down. But he seems more than irritated at the moment, and I worry that I might've hit a rough spot.

"Being down here, with people who suffer every day. This is what makes me… happy. It makes me feel like I'm not alone," I say quietly. "I know you've suffered a lot… far worse than I have… But you're able to handle it so much better than I am. And I admire you so much for that reason. But I'm not the kind of person people stay close to for very long." Through the darkness I see Peeta's face soften as he listens to me.

"Why _not_?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly. I shake my head. I'm not ready for his reaction. For the look of hatred in his eyes. For him to scream at me, yelling at me to get out before he strangles me to death himself. I'm not ready for him to know what part I have, as unintentional as it was, played in his life.

"I'm not ready to give you up just yet," I say. "But I promise I'll tell you someday." For what seems like the millionth time tonight, we are surrounded by silence. It is in this silence, that I begin to gather the bottles of water and the rags in my hands. I smile softly at Peeta to let him know I'm not angry at him before I begin walking towards the door.

"Goodnight, Summer," I hear his voice behind me.

"Goodnight, Peeta."

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Because I got impatient.**

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><p>I return the next night with the same amount of rags and bottles of water as I had the night before, and I'm again relieved and worried that Peeta doesn't appear to have been bothered at all in the past twenty-four hours. I, however, <em>am<em> bothered immensely. Today had been a day when I wished I could just not exist at all, because it seemed like no matter where I was in Panem, I'd be under so much stress right now, I'd probably just shoot myself. And it's all because I'm a no-good, eavesdropper.

"How're you feeling?" he asks me quietly. I notice that he's able to move his face a bit more, but he still doesn't seem to be able to move around much.

"I could ask you the same question," I remark. When he gives me a look, I answer him, "I've had better nights. I've had worse nights though too."

"Why must you be so cryptic all the time?" he groans as I inspect his arm and leg burns more closely. "Why can't you just give me a straight answer?"

"District 13 is going to be bombed tomorrow night," I say shortly. I hear his breathing stop for a second, but as he processes what I said his face twists into a look of confusion.

"Wha- Summer, District 13 was destroyed years ago. Why would anyone waste bombs on rubble?" he asks.

"That's where the rebels are, of course. Underground," I tell him. Might as well get it all out in the open. "It's a long story, and I'd rather not discuss it with you right now but-"

"Of course not!" he snaps angrily at me, causing me to jump away from him slightly. "Why would you discuss anything with me? You never tell me about yourself, so why should you be bothered to say anything about the outside world? After all, it's not like my life is on the line or anything!"

My eyes widen automatically. Where is this coming from? Was it something I said? Whatever it was, I naturally take offense and scowl at him.

"Excuse me if I'm just trying to prevent you from beating me up or something whenever I mention that _Katniss is in 13_. Along with the rest of her family. And they will all be _dead by morning_, unless _somebody_ can get a warning message to them!" I scream at him. His eyes darken immediately.

"She deserves to die though!" he screams in reply. I see his lips cracking where they were especially dry. I notice the sweat gleaming on his cheekbones and realize just how worked up he already is. "She's done so much to ruin other people's lives, why should she get to live on in peace? She's ruined _MY_ life! Why should I feel any sympathy for her?"

"If you can't feel it for her, feel it for her little sister!" I beg him. "Feel it for everyone in 13! And if I mean anything to you at all, feel it for me!"

"What's that supposed to mean? You think you don't mean anything to me?" he shouts as he struggles to stand up, causing his arm to start bleeding.

"Peeta, stop your arm is bleeding," I try to calm him. I take a step toward him, but he shuffles away from me.

"Don't," he snaps sharply. "What the heck is your deal, Summer? Why is it that you refuse to be happy? Did you _kill_ somebody? Or are you really so selfish that you can't accept that anyone could be happy to have you in their life?"

"Oh, I'm selfish?" I ask sarcastically. "This, coming from the boy who refuses to help save an entire community of people because of _one girl_. Tell me, who's really the selfish person here?"

"You're selfish enough to help the one person on the earth who wants to kill me more than anything, survive! Do _I_ not mean anything to _you_?" he argues. I swear my heart stops as I think that over for a moment.

_Does_ Peeta mean something to me? Of course he does. Why else would I have been helping him this past week? Selfishness, I think bitterly. But that's not the only reason. Regardless of whether or not he and I have anything in common, I feel secure around him. I like that he accepts what he knows about me. I like that he's never pushed for information about my personal life. I like that he makes me laugh. I like that he wants me around.

But does he, as a person, mean something to me? How much does he mean? Does he mean enough? But the question that continues to echo between these questions is the one thing I'm not sure how to begin to answer. _What_ does he mean to me?

"Of course! These past nights, you're all that's meant _anything_ to me! But I can't just think about myself. I can't always be thinking about how things will affect me! I have to do the best I can to make others happy," I shout at him.

"What about what makes me happy?" he asks loudly. I sigh tiredly as I take a step toward him.

"I can't make you happy," I whisper, shutting my eyes tightly. "And even if I could, I wouldn't know how."

I suppose that after saying that, I should've been prepared for what happened next. But as Peeta's lips collided with mine, I couldn't have been more shocked. Is 'shocked' even the right word? What about 'terrified' or 'petrified?' What is he thinking? Oh, right, he's not. But I don't push him off of me, and I don't kiss him back. I just stand there until he pulls away a few seconds later.

The satisfied smirk he's wearing makes me sick. If he sees any sign repulsion on my face, he doesn't acknowledge it. We stand there, in complete silence. And then I do the one thing that makes the most sense at the time.

"Ow!" Peeta yells as my fist collides with his jaw. "What was that for?"

"You kissed me!" I scream at him. "Why would you even do that?"

"Because I-" he starts, but I cut him off.

"No, actually, I don't want to know why you'd kiss me," I say to him. "Because then I'd have to pretend to care!"

"Well I-"

"No, wait, tell me," I interrupt him again. "Tell me why you thought it was okay to kiss me."

"Because you said you didn't know how to make me happy! And as it turns out, kissing you makes me very happy," he tells me matter-of-factly, rubbing his jaw with his hand.

"You can't just kiss me!" I yell as a bead of sweat breaks out on my forehead. "You're in love with Katniss, you idiot!"

His eyes go dark, and his face turns redder than it already was with the blood and burns. Immediately, he's shouting at me, screaming at me to get away from him. He shouts profanities and curses at me as if I'm Katniss.

I begin pushing on his shoulders and chest, silently begging for him to calm down. But he continues to struggle with the chains, causing all of his wounds to bleed. My hand covers my mouth as I just barely resist the urge to vomit. But I recover and begin pushing on his chest again until he roughly grabs my wrist.

"Why are you defending her?" he barks in my ear. "Why do you care so much about her?"

"Because if something happens to her, you will hate yourself forever!" I yell at him, twisting my arm out of his grasp.

"She deserves to die! She's killed all those people!" he tells me, looking frustrated.

I have nothing to say to him. Katniss did kill people during the Games. There was no denying that. But Peeta killed people too. And they did it to survive. But I don't tell him this. I'm tired of fighting with him.

As I bend down to gather the bottles of water and rags, Peeta's face immediately turns remorseful.

"Summer, I-" he begins.

"I'll come back tomorrow," I interrupt, not looking him in the eyes. If I look at those blue orbs I know that I'll break down. And if I break down, we'll go back to the way we were this past week. And the way we were had apparently led him to believe I liked him- loved him even. But he was Katniss's and I didn't feel that for him either way. All I saw in him was a best friend, and now he's gone and ruined it.

Stupid teenage hormones.

"Please, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sor-" he tries again. I hold a finger up to silence him, though my eyes are glued to the floor.

"If you want my forgiveness, you'll help me find a way to save District 13," I say sharply. I can feel the coldness and harshness in my voice, but I don't care. Any sign of emotion will only make me seem weak. "The people down there are the only people that can save you, and they're my last hope at freedom."

"Well, how am I supposed to help when I'm chained to a wall?" he whines.

I shrug carelessly. "Get unchained to the wall."

"But Summer, listen I-"

"Goodnight, Peeta," I whisper, announcing my own departure. I walk into the hallway and place my hand on the doorknob.

"Wait! Summer, I-" I slam the door shut before he can finish.

I may never know the end of that sentence, but frankly, I couldn't care less right now. He kissed me.

Peeta Mellark kissed me.

I thought he and Katniss were married? Does that mean he cheated on her? Or does this even count since he wants to kill her now? Should I feel guilty? I don't know.

But Peeta Mellark just gave me my first kiss.

How am I supposed to feel about that? Am I supposed to be all giggly right now? That's how other girls described their first kiss. Or am I supposed to be angry? I mean, he just took 'stealing a kiss' to a whole new level. I didn't want that kiss! Why is this so confusing? Is it always this bad? Was I leading him on? I thought I was just being friendly!

…Should I go back and apologize to him? No, I couldn't do that. We both need time to think about this… Especially him, I imagine.

I look back at the door and seriously debate opening it and at least giving him a proper goodnight but… I can't. I'll see him tomorrow night. I'll tell him how I feel. I'll tell him everything. Calmly. Rationally. Carefully.

Truthfully.

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><p><p>

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**For those of you who don't know, Katniss's POV for this chapter in Mockingjay is chapter 9 I think. I, personally, suggest you read that first, but... whatever. Do what you want, haha. Definitely not my best or favorite chapter, but it had to happen. Okay, so... Here ya go.**

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><p>He isn't here.<p>

Why isn't he here?

But I'm early, aren't I? I couldn't stay away another minute, guilt was eating away at my conscience. Did they decide to begin using the tracker-jackers to torture him again? Or was he just gone doing something else? Something else, Summer? What else could he be doing? As I stare into the empty cell that Peeta usually resides in, my mind is reeling. I didn't bring any supplies tonight, I assumed he wouldn't be hurt again today. But it appears I was wrong.

"Summer!" a voice shrieks behind me. I jump a foot in the air in surprise. Instinctively, I swing my left arm in front of my stomach, my right over my face. But I relax only slightly whenever I see that the voice belongs to Venomia, my father's assistant's assistant's assistant's assistant's sister.

She got demoted a several years back because she hit my pet dog when I was six. I threw the hugest tantrum ever to get her in trouble, because back then, I could do whatever I wanted and get sympathy or praise. So she got in trouble and got demoted to my father's assistant's assistant's assistant's assistant's sister. And she only got that rank because of her sister. Because nobody wanted to even be in the same room as me, only a rank this low could be in charge of having to bother. And she hated me for it, naturally.

Because it was _totally_ my fault.

"You filthy mutt of a girl!" she barks at me, her stick-straight purple hair waving around as she moves her head. "What are doing down here, eh? Come to visit one of your old jail-mates? Good luck with that! This here is that Games victor boy's cell. And he's not even here, is he? Must've already taken him up to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" I squeak, fearing the worst.

Preparing him for death? Not likely. They've spent days… weeks, morphing him into something he's not. They wouldn't be willing to throw that away just yet. Preparing him for a worse form a torture than tracker-jacker venom and getting beaten senseless? More than likely, but still doubtful. They've been holding back on damaging him further these past few nights, they wouldn't have wasted that time unless they had a reason. Preparing him for release? I internally laugh at the thought. No way would they release him… Not without some other sort of leverage… leverage…

"He's getting ready for some interview on the television to talk more about the cease-fire or whatever it is it's called," Venomia sneers.

The cease-fire… cease-fire… Why am I repeating it in my head? I know what she's talking about. Peeta called for a cease-fire… not willingly, obviously, but a cease-fire nonetheless.

"When is it-" I try to ask, but she grabs my wrist. Sheesh, is this 'Grab-Summer's-Wrist-Until-Her-Circulation-Cuts-Off Week,' or something?

"It's mandatory viewing, you know that! Imagine what your father would do if he knew I'd found you down here!" she scolds me.

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" I ask, willing my brief panic not to show in my voice.

"That would just get you locked up and leave me out of a job. I'm not stupid," she remarks. I begin following her back up the stairs and hear her murmur something through her purple dyed lips.

"What was that?" I ask innocently. She turns around and scowls at me before we continue our tread up the stairs until we reach the elevator. We go up what seems like a hundred floors before we reach my floor. And I say 'my floor' because the only thing on the floor is my living quarters.

I freely admit to becoming something resembling a plague since 'the incident.' Even the Avoxes look at me like I'm trash, which is saying something. I suppose I could've had them reported, but they'd start sending in real servants who just want gossip to share in the kitchen. So I don't report anyone.

"I never want to find you down there again! No more venturing around the grounds after dark, you got that?" Venomia asks me as pushes me into my bedroom. I give a 'whatever' shrug, but it doesn't matter because Venomia has already shut the elevator door.

_There's a word for people like her…_

As soon as she's gone, I waste no time in changing into my light yellow nightgown and sitting in the much-too spacious living area of my suite. I curl up on the middle cushion of the sofa, and turn on the television.

Peeta's going to be on national television? Why, though? For the Capitol to further humiliate him as they torture him mercilessly? To give Katniss Everdeen the 'privilege' of watching Peeta have a meltdown on television nationwide?

I don't know what at all to expect as the Capitol seal appears, before the face of Panem's president fades in. For a few moments my hearing leaves me, and I only notice my heart thumping against my chest. Immediately, I want to jump off a building for my foolishness. I should've told Peeta what had happened all those years ago… I should've warned him about my connection to-

"…Peeta Mellark." This is the only thing I hear him say before the camera zooms out to reveal an impatient and frustrated looking Peeta. I see his prosthetic leg tapping erratically. I shake my head in disbelief when his distracted voice rings in my ears. I don't hear the specific words, only the overall strain in his voice. But I do know what he's talking about: he's stressing the damage done to various districts, and parts of the map light up to show images of destruction. A broken dam in 7. A derailed train with a pool of toxic waste spilling from car tanks. A granary collapsing after a fire. All of these, he says, are results of rebel action.

_Rubbish, obviously._

But then I see Katniss Everdeen, in all her glory, standing in the rumble of some sort of building. She's not speaking, but it's enough to send the entire nation into a state of chaos. After only a moment of her on the screen, the view switches back to Peeta. I see the sweat breaking out on his forehead, and I could swear my heart stops. I know that he's seen her on the monitor behind the camera.

_Please don't freak out, please don't freak out_, I chant in my mind.

I watch him stutter back into his speech, talking about the bombing of a water purification plant, until Finnick Odair appears on the screen, talking about Rue, a girl who'd died in the Games. Throughout the next minutes of the broadcast, it becomes a battle to see who can get their message across the longest. Every time it cuts back to the studio in the Capitol, Peeta looks more frustrated and distressed. After about fifteen whole minutes of constant switching back and forth, the Capitol seal comes up for about twenty seconds and then cuts back to the president and Peeta. People are shouting in the background, and pieces of paper can be seen flying around the room as people shuffle to get back to work.

The president starts talking about how the rebels have already begun to attempt in blocking out information they find incriminated, then says something stupid about justice and truth and whatnot. He asks Peeta if, given tonight's demonstration, he has any parting thoughts for Katniss Everdeen. I hold my breath as I wait for the reply.

_Please don't say something stupid. Say anything, just not something stupid…_ I beg him in my head.

"Katniss…" Peeta look down for a moment, trying hard to concentrate before looking back up at the camera. "How do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in Capitol. Not in the Districts. And you… in Thirteen… _Dead by morning!"_

My breathing stops as I take in his words… Did he just… No, he couldn't have… Surely, he's not that brave… But did he just… _warn_ District 13?

"End it!"

Peeta opens his mouth to continue 'talking' to Katniss, but the camera is knocked down to film white tiled floor. The stomping of boots as a person marches onto the stage. I hear Peeta cry out in pain, and see, on the sparkling floor, his blood splatter. And I can't muffle my scream of shock if I wanted to.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A longer chapter, to celebrate the holidays and such. =)**

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><p>The next twenty-four hours of my life are hell, to say the least. My thoughts are constantly revolving around Peeta Mellark and that stupid stunt he pulled last night.<p>

_Idiot_.

He did it for me though. I pretty much gave him no choice.

_"…Dead by morning!"_

Those were my words. The exact same words I had told him two nights ago. He hates me now too, no doubt. If he wasn't actually killed today, then he must be closer than ever. Everything I hear the people on TV, the people on the streets, and the people playing outside, say is about Peeta.

Maybe I've become obsessed. I consider this idea for a moment before completely ridding it from my mind. No, I'm not obsessed with Peeta. I'm extremely worried about him. It's like when I was younger and I'd go to the local pet shop to stare at the newborn pups. I was always told not to get attached to any of them, because somebody else was going to adopt them, no doubt. But I did get attached, to every single one of them. And I was always heart-broken when one of them was bought. But I couldn't help myself. I had to keep going back every day; I had to make sure they were being taken care of.

And then I turned six. Now I don't remember why my parents thought six was such a huge occasion to celebrate, but at the time it made perfect sense. I got everything I'd wanted. I huge pink cake, dozens of presents, and my puppy. He didn't have an official name. Everyone called him something different, which may have confused most dogs, but not him. He responded to voices, not words as it seemed. I just called him Puppy since I was so young, and my parents took an immediate liking to him. I can only barely remember them rolling on the floor with me, lunging playfully at Puppy. Those days are the last I remember being truly happy.

That was exactly one month before the incident.

I'm far from knowing what to expect as I run down the last flights of stairs before I reach the floor that Peeta had been held in. What if he's not even still alive? What if last night's incident was the final nail in his coffin? I'd bet anything that they'll send his body to District Thirteen… anything to finally break Katniss Everdeen. Because after killing Peeta, Katniss's fire would die out… And with it, the entire rebellion.

But when I open the cell door, expecting the worst, all I see is the boy I'd seen on TV last night, with only a few more bruises and burns. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, and feel a rush of color return to my face when I notice that he's wide awake, a small smirk on his face.

Before I think, I'm throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his torso with my chin resting on his shoulder. I feel his arms timidly return the gesture, and I consider that he's doubtful of what I'll allow after he'd kissed me and I blew up. This makes me want to hold him tighter, but I don't want to reopen any of the partially scabbed over wounds on his back.

"You're so stupid," I whisper, still not willing to let go. "I thought they were gonna kill you."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asks, unfazed by my emotional state. I swat him on the arm as I choke out something between a laugh and a sob. We sit in silence for a minute, sitting next to each other awkwardly.

"I didn't…" Peeta hesitates, taking a deep breath.

"What?" I question, facing him sharply.

"I didn't think you were gonna react like that," he finishes. "To the kiss, I mean. I thought… I thought you wanted it t-"

"Please don't," I say, squeezing my eyes shut. "Don't say you wanted it."

"Are you saying that you don't have any feelings for me at all?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You're the best friend I've ever had, Peeta. But… that's all," I confess, smiling at him sadly. "And after you're rescued, I'm sure that you'll forget all about me."

"As if that were possible," he scoffs.

"Well, hopefully you'll at least be distracted by something else… or _someone_ else," I tell him gently. Immediately, Peeta's face turns red with anger.

"I finally try to do something for you… _finally_, I give you what you asked… and all you can think about, is that monster?" he says, turning away from me. I bite my lip in frustration.

"Okay, then," I sigh, rising from my place on the stone floor "I'll just be going then. I only wanted to make sure you were still alive-"

He grabs my arm before I'm standing up straight. I hold back a smirk and sit back down.

"Yes?" I say to him. Peeta scowls at me before slumping against the wall.

"Everything I do is wrong," he mutters, shutting his eyes. "According to you, I'm supposed to be in love with that mu- with… Katniss, but I see this footage of her trying to kill me, of her lying to me, and I'm tortured because of what she did in the Games and I just wonder… What made me love her? She's caused me nothing but trouble and pain."

"Well," I say after a moment of biting the inside of my mouth in thought, "I think that you don't get to choose. You love what you love, ya know?"

"But… there had to be something that made me want to love her, right?" he asks.

"Honestly, Peeta," I sigh, "I don't know the first thing about love. The closest I've ever come to true love is my love for food, and food can't exactly love you back, can it?" I laugh, despite the seriousness of his question. He frowns at me, as should be expected.

"You've never loved anyone?" he whispers. Now I frown at him. I just made a mockery of his confusion, and he's sad because I've never been in love? Now I'm so confused.

"Not the kind of love you're talking about," I reply, trying to maintain my light attitude.

"Why not?" I begin to roll my eyes at his questions, but I refrain from doing so. Instead, I look at him, and just sigh.

"I never knew anybody worth loving," I shrug simply. He stares at me in bewilderment.

"Nobody? Not even your parents?"

"I guess I loved them once upon a time. But after my mother… died, my father… Well," I sigh, "let's just say he had no problem with me being locked up down here."

"Why not?" Peeta tries weakly. I shake my head.

"He thinks I did a bad thing," I whisper. That's an understatement. He thinks that out of all the bad things I could've done, I did the worst. Worse than the worst. So bad that no matter what he ever does, it'll never be worse than what I did, in his eyes.

"I'm not even gonna ask what he thinks you did," he says. I nod to him in appreciation.

"The other night when I left the room," I say quietly, "I promised myself that the next time I saw you, I'd tell you everything, but…" Peeta shakes his head in reply.

"Nah, I… As much as the mystery that is you _infuriates_ me, I don't wanna rush you into telling me anything you're not comfortable with. I mean, I've only known you for a week."

"But I'm afraid that if I don't tell you, nobody will ever know… But I'm also afraid because I know that when I do tell you, you're gonna hate me forever…"

Silence.

"This is the part where you say that you could never hate me," I tease, remembering a past night when Peeta had said something similar.

"Lying isn't good for the heart," he responds, mirroring my grin.

"It is if you're especially good at it," I say, shrugging.

"Are you?" he inquires raising an eyebrow. I smirk at him.

"No," I sigh, smiling, "but luckily enough, I'm excellent at avoiding questions."

"It's a shame that everyone apparently thinks you're evil," he says, grinning, "because you're a pretty great person."

"Yeah, I could've had a perfect life," I muse.

"What did you want be? Like, what did you wanna be when you grew up?"

"I think I wanted to be a mother," I answer hesitantly. "I mean, I was never really exposed to a lot of different careers, but I knew… When I was first locked up down here, I vowed to be better to my children then my parents were to theirs. But… as time when on, I realized I couldn't have children of my own… Too dangerous. So now I'm just living life as fully as I possibly can in my situation. I don't know how I'm going to drag myself back to my regular routine after you're gone. It's going to be so dreary," I sigh. We sit in a comfortable silence until Peeta speaks.

"You should come with me then," he says excitedly, turning toward me. I gape at him, momentarily considering it.

I could just stay here with Peeta until they come and get him… I could plead for them to take me too, and Peeta would refuse to leave without me… I could help Peeta through his struggle to become himself again… I could help him recover his memories and love for Katniss… I could tell everyone the Capitol government's secrets… their weaknesses… I could live in Thirteen… I could get away from my father… I could get away from the pain…

I could be happy.

"Are you crazy?" I ask, choking out a laugh. "No way. That would… never work."

His face drops considerably. I roll my eyes and sigh.

"We'll see," I allow exasperatedly. We both try to smile weakly at each other, but I can tell that he's tired.

"I'm gonna go. When I came down here last night, my 'supervisor' found me," I tell him, beginning to stand up.

"You've got a supervisor? You must be pretty hardcore," he teases. I giggle.

"Get some sleep. You look terrible," I say on a more serious note.

"I haven't been able to sleep without being knocked unconscious in months," he mutters rubbing his bruised arm.

"Why not?" I ask, kneeling beside him. He closes his eyes.

"Stress, I suppose. Nightmares. Daily torture. The whole shebang," he confesses.

"Well, you need to be sleeping. Can I do anything to help? Maybe tell you a story or something? Sing a lullaby?" The words escape my mouth before I can stop them. I want to take them back, but I don't want to be rude… But I can't possibly sing to him… No way, I only know one lullaby… I can't sing that. It'd be wrong of me… It's not my song to sing… What if someone besides Peeta heard it? I'd be killed on the spot… But hopefully he'll just tell me to go on back to my room.

But instead he nods.

I try to keep a casual air about me, but my heart is thumping against the inside of my chest loudly._ It's just Peeta_, I remind myself. _Nobody else can see or hear you. You checked for lack of security long before you came down here. You'll be fine._

"Okay," I muster. "Um, alright then." I move so that Peeta's head is propped up in my lap.

"Are you… comfortable?" I ask nervously. He blinks at me confusedly.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Wha-huh? Yeah, of course I am. Duh. Why wouldn't I be?" I reply, my voice shaking. Calm down, Summer! Gosh, you'd think you'd never sung before.

"Well for one thing, you're cutting of the circulation in my shoulder," he points out off-handedly. I look down the see that I'm gripping his shoulder so hard it's turning white.

"Oh, um… sorry about that," I say. "I guess I'm just a little bit rusty. I haven't sung in ages."

"If it's too much pressure for you, you don't have-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"No, I need to do this. And you need to sleep. So I can do this," I tell him. I close my eyes as I try to remember the tune. We sit there in silence for several minutes before I finally open my mouth again.

_"We are the lucky ones,  
>We shine like a thousand suns,<br>When all of the color runs together_

_I'll keep you company,  
>In one glorious harmony,<br>Waltzing with destiny forever_

_Dance me into the night,  
>Underneath the moon shining so bright,<br>Turning me into the light."_

I sigh, frustrated, as my voice cracks on the high note. I can hear Peeta's breathing slow down slightly and look down to see his eyes closed. He looks so peaceful when he's not constantly stressing over Katniss 'coming to kill him.' His forehead is smoothed out, and he doesn't seem so angry.

_"Time dances whirling past,  
>I gaze through the looking glass,<br>And feel just beyond my grasp is heaven_

_Sacred geometry,  
>Where movement is poetry,<br>Visions of you and me forever_

_Dance me into the night,  
>Underneath the moon shining so bright,<br>Turning me into the light."_

I begin to think about my mother… She used to sing this song to me as a lullaby every night before she died. I never found out where it came from exactly, or what it meant, but it was the only song I knew that meant something. Most of the Capitol "music" that's produced nowadays is garbage. It's all about the show they put on, and has nothing to do with the words they sing or the notes they play.

As I go into the last verse, I remember the night my mother died. I remember how confused I was, and how the several stages of being locked up came upon me.

The confusion came first, obviously; I didn't have any idea as to why I was being punished for my mother's death. It wasn't my fault. I couldn't have saved her.

Next came anger. After enduring weeks and weeks of torture and questioning, I learned why I was locked up. I learned whose fault it was. I learned who was calling the shots when it came to my future. I was angry, of course, that my father was completely supporting my 'treatment,' as everyone called it. I was angry that my mother was gone. I was angry that nobody would answer my cries for help, unless it was to tell me to shut up.

And like most people who spend their life in a dark cell by themselves, only being disturbed to have their minds messed with, I went through my insanity phase. I screamed at anyone who came near me, I clawed at my own arms and legs, chewed on my hair, drew swirls in the dust on the ground. In the beginning of the phase, I recall, it was my way of getting people to keep their distance, but I hardly noticed when it became more than an act.

And then there was the final stage of my being locked up for so long: Determination. Determination to get out of there. Determination to make sure nobody ever had to suffer like I did. Determination to beat the tracker jacker venom running through my blood. And most of all, determination to get revenge on my father.

I become so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hardly notice the somewhat long pause between verses. But I can't leave without finishing the song for Peeta. When I do finish, I know that I need to get above ground. I can smell the suffocation and pain lingering in the air. And so I leave the underground prisons, running as fast as I possibly can into the quiet, chilly, darkness.

_"Dance me into the night,  
>Underneath the moon shining so bright,<br>Let the dark waltz begin,  
>Oh let me wheel - let me spin,<br>Let it take me again,  
>Turning me into the light ."<em>

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><p><strong>Oh, the song I used for this chapter is called Dark Waltz by Hayley Westenra and it is absolutely one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard so you should really go listen to it, since it'll also be reappearing in later chapters. =)<strong>

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

The screaming.

The screaming won't stop.

"Peeta, please! Calm down!" I yell, my back pressed up against the wall.

"This is all your fault! You're the reason they're doing this! You and that mutt! You're both mutts!" he continues to shout in my face. I try to cover my ears to block out his ranting but he's too close for me to lift my arms. The only thing keeping him from strangling me are the metal chains that are cutting into his wrists.

"That's why you're so protective of her, isn't it?" he hollers. "Because you two are allies! You're trying to break me apart, one piece at a time! But it won't work anymore! Never again!"

"Peeta, that's not true and you know it!" I reply loudly. "You're hurting yourself, and you need to lie down or you'll pass out!"

"You just don't want to see something besides a mutt cause me pain, do you?"

"Peeta, please!" I beg. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Trying to help me die!" he shouts. I let him go on with his struggling and accusations until he drops to the floor, completely knocked out.

"Nice one, Peeta," I whisper to myself as I grab his arm and try to gently tug him back over to the wall.

He took longer to pass out than I'd initially thought he would. He'd been yelling profanities and others nonsense when I had arrived about an hour ago, and who knows how long he'd been at it before I got here. I'd never experienced an attack that lasted that long, though I spent more time suffering from them than he had. It must be getting worse, and the fact that he may be rescued any day now only makes me panic more.

He's going to have to face Katniss again one day. What will he do? Strangle her? Stab her? Break her heart? Or will they be separated until all the tracker-jacker effects have worn off? And how long will that take? He's received as much venom in his past two weeks here as I did in my several years. What if the effects never wear off?

This is all my fault.

He'd been fine two nights ago, but then I went and screwed it up. Well, I couldn't really help it. I fell asleep before I'd gotten the chance to visit. Four nights without sleep can do that to a person. I can't be blamed for sleep deprivation… Can I? Either way, something was obviously quite therapeutic about me being with him every night as a source of normalcy, because he freaked out when I didn't show.

At first when I'd gotten there, he was shouting about how I didn't really want to come and visit him and how I was abandoning him just like everyone else. Next, he moved on to screaming about Katniss coming to find him, shortly followed by him coming to the conclusion that I was a mutt and was working with her… and then he passed out.

I begin my routine of cleaning Peeta's burns and cuts as best I can without making it look too noticeable. I can tell that they began his "treatment" again earlier today because of the swelling on his legs and neck.

_"Let the dark waltz begin,  
>Oh let me wheel - let me spin,<br>Let it take me again,  
>Turning me into the-"<em>

"Summer?" I hear Peeta murmur through slightly parted lips.

"I'm here, Peeta," I answer softly.

"Can you tell me a story?" he asks. I roll my eyes.

"What kind of story?" I ask patiently. His eyes twitch shut suddenly and I realize that he must be fighting to stay awake. "Peeta?"

"What are my… options?" he whispers. I continue dabbing his arms with a wet towel.

"Well, do you want a fairytale, or a true story?" I ask jokingly.

"Both," he replies. I frown at him.

"Umm, okay then… Once upon a time, there was a boy named Peeta-"

"I don't like this story," he interrupts. I laugh and think of a new topic.

"Once upon a time," I begin again, "there was a very handsome prince-"

"Ugh, not one of _those_ stories," he whines. I whack him on the head softly.

"Once upon a time," I say firmly, "in a small, far away land called Licentia-"

"What kind of word is that?" he interrupts again. I sigh impatiently.

"It's from an ancient language that I learned from a book my father had hidden away on a bookshelf," I inform him. "It means 'Freedom.'"

"It's really pretty," he states in awe. "Go on."

"There was a girl named Liala," I continue. "She had silvery blue eyes and pink hair-"

"Pink hair?" Peeta questions.

"Do you want me to stop?" I ask, annoyed.

"No," he answers quickly. "I'm just wondering, is this pink hair genetic?"

"Well, of course not," I reply, closing my eyes in concentration. "See, in Licentia, there was a tradition that when a child turned five, the birth parents would choose what color would be used to permanently dye their child's hair. This would be done in a spiritual ceremony that practically determined the child's fate."

"That hardly seems realistic," Peeta murmurs.

"Shut up," I snap quietly, not opening my eyes. "It's a fairytale too." He silently surrenders and I once again continue the story.

"Liala's parents were opposed to choosing her life for her, but they knew that if they didn't at least pretend to follow tradition, Liala would most definitely be cursed for life. So they chose the most simple and soft color they could think of, which was a shade of pink so light, it was almost white.

"When asked about their motives for using that particular shade, they merely said it was to be sure that their daughter would be a beautiful, careless, loving, calm, and accepted young lady one day. Friends and relatives were automatically pleased with the couple's reasoning, and thought nothing of it again.

"However, the two had actually chosen the color for the less commonly known meaning-"

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I snap, my eyes popping open and glaring down at Peeta. He doesn't shrink under my gaze and this doesn't go unnoticed by either of us.

"Why do you close your eyes?" he asks. My glare falters.

"Well, how am I supposed to create a whole new world if I'm surrounded by this _dump_ of a world?" I inquire, tilting my head to the side. He gives a weak, one-armed shrug.

"Doesn't that keep your mind in the dark?"

"My eyes are closed," I say simply, "but my mind is wide open."

"That makes no sense at all," he protests confusedly. I sigh and begin moving his head off my lap and onto the stone floor.

"What? Where are you going?" he asks frantically. I yawn as if on cue.

"I'm sleepy, and I've been down here with you for hours already. I'll be back tomorrow night," I tell him.

"Promise?" he queries. I roll my eyes but nod as I walk into the hall.

"I promise," I whisper.

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><p><strong>To clarify, this is not the night after the last chapter. A night was skipped because Summer fell asleep before her visit, thus, the reason Peeta freaked out. Also, Bridge to Terabithia reference. =P<strong>

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Shorter chapter, but I'm waiting awhile to update again because... *sniffle* I'm running out of pre-written chapter (I've got about three or four left) and I've still got like, four whole chapters to write. LOL, just kidding. But not really. But I'm not really upset about it but... Just read the chapter.**

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><p>"Are you gonna finish that story?" Peeta asks when I am finished cleaning his wounds as best I can.<p>

"Are you going to interrupt as much as last night?" I tease before he rolls his eyes.

"I'll try my best," he replies. I sit up straighter and close my eyes.

"Okay, so Liala grew up just as the community had expected; she was beautiful, kind, and had this soothing air about her that just… attracted people to her. And naturally, she attracted boys her age. All the boys in her town wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, with the breezy carelessness that she'd been cursed with, Liala became something of a boyfriend stealer. She didn't mind though, she didn't know how to mind."

"Didn't she have any friends?" Peeta asks. I open my eyes and turn my head to look at him. He only offers a slightly sheepish look, and I close my eyes again.

"She didn't need any. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted, wearing what she wanted, and feeling what she wanted. Her parents saw the monster their daughter had become, stomping all over people's feelings. They were afraid that one day she would leave town by herself. A person as oblivious as Liala would be killed within a day.

"But they remembered the choice they made when she was a baby. They remembered the undocumented characteristic that they'd chosen the pink color for. On her eighteenth birthday, Liala was parading around the town square when she was knocked over into a puddle of muddy water by a large, black and white spotted, dog. That was the first time she cared about something.

"Immediately, she began screaming about the mess of dirty water that was soaking through her clothes. People stared at her like she was crazy, and she realized that she wanted them to look away. She was ashamed.

"That was when a young man named Stefan arrived. He saw Liala struggling to stand and rushed over to help her, but only succeeded in being dragged down along with-"

"Who's there?" a loud voice shouts from the hallway. My eyes snap open as I jump up with Peeta next to me.

_No._

"You need to get out of here," Peeta whispers.

_I'm dead._

"Answer me!" the voice from the hall shouts again. There's a loud bang on the door and my heart is pounding so hard on the inside of my chest, I worry it might actually explode. I can feel Peeta scrambling to burrow himself in the corner beside the door.

"Get ready to run!" he says to me, urgency in his voice.

"Peeta, don't get invo-" I begin to say, but I'm cut off by another bang on the door.

"I've been involved from the moment you told me your name," he argues shortly. "Just get ready to run." I notice for the first time that I'm standing with my back hard-pressed against the cold stone wall opposite from the steel door.

"You don't have to do this," I tell him, my eyes wide.

Another bang.

"She's in here!" I hear the same voice from before shout. I begin muttering swear words under my breath. How did they find me? Why did they come looking?

That's when the door breaks down and five men, all Capitol security, rush in. My heart pounds harder, and I'm frozen in place. I give Peeta, who still resides in the darkness of that corner, a warning look.

_Don't do anything stupid,_ I beg him silently. As if he can see my begging eyes in the pitch black room, he drops to the floor in surrender and curls into a tight ball.

I think that he's pretending to be asleep until I hear him begin his stream of profanities used only when he's having an attack. The guards turn their attention on him, and I realize this is the diversion Peeta was preparing for moments ago. I'm not going to run though. These guards are going to kill me, and I'm ready to die. I've been ready to die for years. Peeta has done nothing wrong that could be traced back to me, so he'll be as safe as he was before.

He'll make it back to Katniss Everdeen in one piece. That's all I can hope for besides that he might forgive me for not taking advantage of his distraction. But the first is more likely to become reality.

"He's just reacting to the torture, back to work!" one of the guards yell. And though I haven't moved an inch, the several men raise their guns at me.

"Don't shoot! He wants her alive!" another shouts. My heart beats louder and I squeeze my eyes shut. No, he can't know. He doesn't want to see me. He hasn't seen me in years. What's changed? Does he know the truth now? Does he know I've been coming down here for years to care for the prisoners?

Before I have time to think, there are two men holding my arms, probably to keep me from running. But I'm not going anywhere.

I hear orders to take me upstairs. My eyes don't open.

A hand hits my face hard. My eyes remain closed.

"SUMMER!" Peeta screams. I look up just in time to see him get knocked out with the back of a gun and be dragged off into another room. I look up to see the guard who'd barged into the room pointing a syringe at my arm.

I look up at him, trying to prevent myself from looking vulnerable, despite the fact that I've got the build of a twig. The guard narrows his eyes at me in what appears to me confusion briefly before stabbing the needle into my skin. I immediately become drowsy and the room starts spinning. I faintly acknowledge the fact that I've fallen to the ground.

The last thing I remember is hearing Peeta's bloodcurdling scream of agony.

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><p><strong>Aw shit. Well, I guess Summer is dead now. PEACESKIES!<strong>

**Haha, no way. But this is the last Capitol cell scene because Peeta gets rescued the next night and Summer... haha we'll get to that later. =P**

**REVIIIEWWWW PLEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASEEE!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Oops, I lied. Updating now. Okay so this chapter is Peeta's POV, back at District 12, semi-post Mockingjay because it's not passed the epilogue but... whatever. Lemme know how I did with Peeta's point of view!**

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><p><strong>-Approx. 1 year later-<strong>

**Peeta POV:**

"It'd be best for all of us if you put her back on a hovercraft to _wherever_ before Peeta gets back."

"Put who back on a hovercraft?" I ask lightly as I approach Katniss and Haymitch who are leaning towards each other over the small kitchen table. "What's going on?"

Haymitch turns to me as Katniss drops her head onto the table in frustration. I walk to the table and sit between them, awkwardness lingering in the air.

"There's um… someone here to see you, boy," Haymitch tells me, lacking the usual drunk slur in his tone. Odd, since I doubt anyone's seen him sober since the war ended.

"Who's here?" I respond after a moment of confused silence. Someone's here to see… me?

"That's the thing," he states, rubbing his forehead. "Nobody knows who she is. They're hoping maybe you can identify her."

"I'm… confused," I say cautiously. I look at Katniss for a hint as to what's going on, but she refuses to look at me.

"I'm leaving," she groans, moving to get up, but I grab her hand. She freezes at the contact and turns to me. "I'll see you later." She wriggles out of my gasp and makes for the backdoor. When she's gone, I turn back to Haymitch.

"Why can't someone else identify this person?" I ask him quickly. I thought Katniss and I were finally through with this kind of stuff. Things were finally starting to look up for us, and now the world is pulling _this_ one on us? Fantastic, I think sarcastically.

"What makes you all think I can?"

"Hold your horses, boy," he grunts, shifting in his seat. "They found her under the Capitol in the same prison area they kept you. They've been trying to distinguish rebellion spies from actual criminals. But they're no DNA records or any records at all that this girl exists. Since they can't charge her for any crimes, they have to find a proper place for her to stay."

"And you think she should stay District 12," I guess, nodding.

"I don't know where she should go, but I know she doesn't belong locked up somewhere. She's been hijacked, probably more than you. She just stares into space for hours until she has an attack. But she keeps talking about you; that's why she was originally brought here."

"What's she look like?" I ask, interested now.

"Blonde hair, brown eyes, huge scar on her face…"

_It couldn't be,_ I think. My eyes widen and I stand up hurriedly.

"Where is she now?" I ask, already beginning to stand up. Haymitch jumps in front of me, though, blocking the doorway.

"You need to know something before you see her," he protests. I push past him though, and begin running up the stairs.

I check my bedroom first; empty. Then I peek into the first guestroom and that's empty too, so I immediately speed up as I head to the second guestroom.

The door swings open and I rush in, my eyes darting every which way before settling on the figure leaning against the windowsill.

"Summer?" the name leaves my mouth before fully register the situation.

What if this isn't her? What if she doesn't remember me? What if she's so far-gone because of the tracker-jacker venom that she attacks me? What if Summer never existed and this is some random girl who was placed in the cell beside mine? I inhale sharply as the silhouette turns away from the window and stiffens noticeably.

"It's me," I say a bit quieter, suddenly less sure of myself. "It's Peeta." I slowly walk towards her, to see her face.

Her mouth, oddly enough, is the first thing I notice. It's not smiling, but it's not frowning either. I think it's a trick of the light at first, because from the little I remember about her, she was always smiling or frowning… or slapping me. But then I see that it is the very definition of a straight line, which causes _me_ to frown.

The next thing I notice her hair. It's grown since I last saw her. Or maybe it hasn't. My memories aren't that strong and I haven't really had anything to remember her by anyway. But now it's past her shoulders, and it might look longer if it weren't matted in certain places. And the dirt in her hair almost completely conceals the fact that it's light blonde.

I barely register the long scar running down her face, how it hasn't faded in the least bit. Or maybe it has. It was always pretty dark in that cell. But it's not that much brighter in here with the sun setting outside. _No_, I decide, _it hasn't faded. _But that's hardly something that can be fixed with good health, right?

The final thing I notice, before Haymitch bursts in behind me gasping for breath, is the look in her eyes. It's not crazy, like I think I expected it to be. It's duller, lifeless almost. These aren't Summer's eyes.

Summer, from what I can recall, always had a passionate fire in her brown eyes, whether she was excited, sad, angry, confused, or just… being. She was always thinking about something, I think. She was always analyzing every impossible situation, silently in her head. But these eyes are empty. And I can tell she's only looking at me, not really seeing. She's not inventing some fantasy story in her mind anymore; just rewriting the same, sad tale that has become her reality.

I almost scoff at how broodingly poetic my thoughts are.

"Come on, you gotta remember me?" I try weakly, ignoring Haymitch's protests from behind me. But she's just staring at me emptily.

"Peeta, it's no use," Haymitch tells me as he puts a hand on my shoulder. "She's having another attack."

"What?" I ask before I can stop myself. This is an attack? But she's so blank looking. Why isn't she tearing the room to shreds and screaming and strangling somebody?

"Everyone deals in their own way, boy," he reminds me before backing out of the room.

So what then? I dealt with it with anger and pain, and Summer, the most compassionate and understanding person in Panem, deals with it by shutting down for a little bit? I suddenly feel jealous that she's able to avoid the internal and external pain of an attack. But then I mentally slap myself. Summer has never deserved to feel pain. I doubt she's ever done anything immoral at all.

And who knows? Maybe she _is_ feeling pain, but she's just really good at hiding it.

_What does that say about me though?_ I ask myself.

Before I have time to answer myself, I look up to see Summer rocking back and forth dizzily.

"Uh oh," she slurs with a mocking tone, "looks like I'm hallucinating now."

"What?" I say, my eyes narrowing in confusion. I stagger backwards slightly when she leans forward and pokes me on the chest.

"Hmm, you get more realistic every day," she continues, trying studying me closing with unsteady eyes. She must still be having an episode. Or maybe she's always this crazy now.

"Um," is all I can manage to get out. How am I _supposed_ to react to this? Am I supposed to give her a long overdue hug for saving me in the Capitol? Or do I play along with her imagination? Should I just leave? Would she notice? Wait a minute…

_She has hallucinations of me?_

"Peeta?"

There it is. I lose my train of thought to be snapped back into reality by Summer's voice. This is _her_ voice now. This, I realize, is her. I pull her in for a hug before either of us can make this situation more awkward. She doesn't hesitate to hug me back, and her laughter isn't restrained either.

"Are you laughing at me?" I ask, pulling back slighting, but keep my arms around her.

"I can't help it!" she replies giddily, hopping slightly in her excitement. "I'm just… so happy to see you!"

"Where've you been? _How _have you been?" I ask, trying to contain my own excitement.

This is strange. Happy, and exciting, and sincere… but strange. A good strange though, obviously. To an outsider, we might look like two good friends reuniting a long break from school. We might look as though the last time we spoke was only a few weeks ago, rather than more than an entire year. But it's especially strange because, well, the last time we spoke was in a prison, four hundred feet below the surface. And now we're as safe as two friends can be in District 12.

Two friends…

I wonder if she remembers me kissing her, if she remembers me practically proclaiming my love for her. I hope she doesn't. Or if she does, that she doesn't bring it up. That would just bring so much more awkwardness into my life.

As it is, Katniss is finally starting to take care of herself again. She's starting to trust me again, let me be her friend. The loss of Prim really took a toll on her. It messed me up pretty bad too, though I'd probably never say that aloud. Every now and then, she'd fall asleep on the couch in the living room of my house while I was cooking dinner for the two of us. We knew neither of us was getting enough sleep, but I didn't want to be the one to suggest we share a bed.

She still looks at me like I might try to strangle her at any moment, and for the most part, she keeps her distance. I mean, I do still have the occasional attack, but the really bad ones, I'm ashamed to admit, are mostly brought on the panic that certain things _might_ cause me to have an attack. Still though, I haven't actually broken anything in weeks; months, even. Not that she's noticed.

"Well, the white-ins are back," Summer replies nonchalantly, not releasing me from her grip.

"I noticed," I tell her. "I guess it's my turn to take care of you then."

She laughs. "No, I'm fine. Really."

_Liar_.

When Summer finally releases me from her death-grip on my shoulders, we go downstairs to find that Haymitch has left.

"Maybe we should go find him," Summer suggests quietly. She's got a worried look in her eye, and I immediately tell her it's alright, and that Haymitch probably just stumbled across the street to his pigsty of a house. But the look remains.

"I never got to thank him for earlier…" she murmurs, trailing off.

"What did Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's resident drunk, do for you?" I tease as we cross the foyer into the kitchen.

"He convinced those weird Capitol people to let me stay," she informs me shyly. "Can't imagine why he'd want me around but… He's just been really nice to me, ya know? Been keeping an eye on me."

"Do you need an eye to be kept on you?" I ask warily. Maybe she has _real_ attacks sometimes.

Is that what I'm calling them? _Real attacks? _What makes my attacks any more real than hers? _Well for one, _I reason_, mine make me want to strangle people but… whatever, right?_

"He just made sure I had what I needed," she says shortly. I give her an odd look and lean forward, blinking my eyes knowingly. "That's disgusting, Peeta!"

"Hey, I didn't say anything," I defend myself, putting my arms up.

"You were making implications though!"

"Implications?" I tease.

"Implications!" she confirms, laughing. I grin at her. "What? Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"Just… I'm glad you're alive."

She looks at me with a proud smile. "Well, you didn't think I'd get myself killed, did you?"

"I wasn't sure," I admit, shaking my head, "that you had even actually existed. After the war ended, there was no mention of you being found. I'd almost forgotten you completely, brushing you off as a figment of my imagination. And then… I walk into the kitchen not an hour ago and Haymitch tells me that there is a girl in my guest bedroom… talking about _me_, of all things."

"I couldn't talk properly… or think properly," she says quietly, her serious face mirroring mine. "The doctors said it was from trauma… But it was really just…" She grimaces as I take a step toward her. "Peeta, before you comfort me, you should know that I-"

"Peeta?" I turn around to see Katniss standing by the backdoor awkwardly. I don't understand her odd stance until I realize what this must look like to her.

"Um, Summer, I don't believe you've met-" I begin to introduce them quickly, but Summer begins walking towards Katniss with her hand outstretched.

"Katniss Everdeen," she finishes, shaking Katniss's stiff hand enthusiastically. Katniss, needless to say, looks beyond surprised. I stifle a laugh at the scene. I think Summer may actually be better at changing her attitude in a split second than I am.

"So you're the crazy girl from the Capitol?" Katniss replies, smirking. I glare at her. But Summer doesn't seem to notice that this was probably an insult.

"And you're the girl who broke the system," she replies, also smirking, neither confirming nor denying Katniss's observation.

"I like you," Katniss decides. "Something about you…" She looks distant for a moment in thought but then snaps back suddenly, shaking her head. "So how do you two…"

"She saved my life on more than one occasion while I was… in the Capitol," I say, causing Katniss to flinch.

"I didn't save your life," Summer protests before turning back to Katniss. "I just kept him company." Then she whispers something in her ear that makes Katniss's face go red with what I think is embarrassment. _What did she say?_

"It's not…" Katniss stutters. "No, it's…"

"Look at that, Peeta," Summer smiles, unperturbed, "I've left Katniss Everdeen speechless."

"Not the hardest thing in the world," I tell her.

When Katniss recovers slightly she give Summer an odd look. "Who _are_ you?" she chokes out, looking between the two of us. Summer turns to look at me before replying:

"My name is Summer."

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><p><strong>*sniffle* Ohhh the nostalgia!<strong>

**REEVIIEWWWW PLLEAAASEEEE**


	11. Chapter 11

**Back to Summer POV for as long as I can tell. =P Review pleeaaassee!**

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><p><strong>Summer POV:<strong>

At some point during dinner, Peeta, Katniss, and Haymitch decide, without bothering to ask me, that I'll be living in Katniss's guest bedroom, rather than staying in one of the empty houses down the road. After I've helped Peeta with the dishes, and Katniss has insulted Haymitch enough to make him leave (which I think is mean, but apparently it's just how their relationship works, as Peeta later tells me), I hover awkwardly by the door until Peeta and Katniss have shared their even more awkward exchange of goodbyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," Peeta says, running a hand through his hair. If it wasn't so obvious that he was trying to impress her with nonchalance, I might laugh.

"Um, yeah, sure," Katniss nods curtly in reply.

"Katniss and Peeta, sitting in a tree," I sing under my breath, too low for them to hear.

"Goodnight, Summer," Peeta says, nodding in my direction. I give him a smile.

"Don't get yourself chained to another wall, got it?" I tease. Katniss bites her lip with a grimace before walking out the door. Can you spell '_moody'_?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to... I didn't realize it was such a sensitive subject," I apologize. Peeta just shakes his head.

"I guess she just hasn't gotten the closure she needs yet."

"Have you?" I ask before I can stop myself. His eyes dart to mine.

"I don't there is closure for something like this," he tells me. I walk over to him and give him a hug.

"There is. And when you figure it out, you'll be able to move on," I whisper. He nods, but still looks doubtful. I can't stand the heaviness in there air so I put on the perkiest smile possible and give him another small hug. "I'd better go before I lose Katniss."

"Alright. See ya tomorrow," he says. I nod. "I'm really glad… that you came back."

I smile.

"Even if you are crazy now," he adds, making me laugh.

"I've always been crazy," I say. "It's just that last time we spoke, you were too crazy to notice."

He silently shrugs in surrender. I take this as my cue to leave, and shuffle out the door in the puffy jacket I was loaned by Peeta. He claimed to have dozens that he never wore, so he gave me the puffiest one he could find. Still not sure if it's a joke or not.

The air outside is probably somewhere just below freezing. I scurry around the house and into the street that's only illuminated by a street lamp a few houses down. I look around with squinted eyes before I see Katniss waiting by the front door of what is apparently her house. I start jogging over but have to stop after five steps to catch my breath. I suppose I'm more out of shape than I thought. I walk the rest of the way.

When Katniss has shown me to the room beside hers, she turns to me with a semi-sheepish expression.

"Um, if you hear… crying or screaming, don't um, don't call for help, okay? Just nightmares," she says, brushing a stray hair out of her face. I nod understandingly.

"No biggie. I sleep like a rock most of the time," I say simply. And it's the truth. I just don't get nightmares. No idea why not. I've had my share of trauma. I just don't have nightmares. Unless it's about typical nightmare stuff like holding on to a rope for your life over a volcano. Nothing terribly symbolic, I think. I'll have to find a book about symbolic dreams. Maybe there's someone in town who's got books like that.

Katniss gives me questioning look. "Peeta never mentioned you."

This doesn't come as a shock to me so I nod. "He mentioned you. A lot." I don't bother telling her that he pretty much only cursed and insulted her. I bet she had enough of that to deal with back in Thirteen.

We don't say anything else, and I slip into my room where I open the dresser to find several dresses, some pants, a coat, and a few checkered blouses. They seem to all be about my size, and I wonder if they might've belonged to someone before me. Whoever they were/are, I hope they don't mind me wearing their fuzzy pajamas.

I climb into the large bed and plop my head down on the pillow tiredly. Sleep comes to me more easily tonight than it has in months, maybe years. Peeta may've said earlier that it was his turn to help fix me, but I know that I've only begun to help him. My mind is peaceful, and I'm finally safe.

_"We are the lucky ones,  
>We shine like a thousand suns,<br>When all of the color runs together_

_I'll keep you company,  
>In one glorious harmony,<br>Waltzing with destiny forever."_

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><p><strong>Short chapter, I know, but the next one is like... 11 pages long so, REVIEWS MAKE FOR A QUICKER UPDAAAATEEE!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Ohhhhhhhhh gosh. I feel so clumsy! I uploaded the wrong chapter a minute ago so... Sorry. But this is the right one so... yay!**

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><p>By the time I wake up, it must be well past noon, but my eyelids are still heavy and who am I to awake my body before it's ready? Unfortunately, Peeta has no respect for my privacy, so he barges into room loudly and yanks the warm comforter off the bed. I scream in fury and curl into an even tinier ball than before.<p>

"Come on, Summer," Peeta coaxes, laughing. "It's beautiful outside."

"Liar," I groan. I jump up on the mattress, grab the comforter from his hands, and fall back down with it on top of me. Peeta grabs the end of the bed and starts shaking it like I'm in the middle of an erupting volcano. "Stop it! I don't feel good!"

"Please," Peeta scoffs, "do you know how many times Katniss has tried that excuse? It's not gonna work."

"Why do you have to be such a morning person?" I grumble into the pillow.

"It's two in the afternoon! Come on, I need to run into town a few things, and I'll need help carrying them around," he tells me.

"Ugh, don't you have any friends?" I mumble sleepily.

"So you understand why I came to you!" Peeta cheers. I sit up slowly and glare at him.

"I will have my revenge," I vow before getting up and shooing him out of the room to get dressed.

It's almost an hour before I find clothes that are warm enough and fit me properly. After taking an extremely hot shower and brushing my teeth, I shuffle downstairs to find Peeta sitting innocently at the kitchen table.

"Oh, good, you're up," he says enthusiastically as he rises. We're halfway down the street before I say anything.

"Katniss has nightmares," I tell him blankly. It's not a question, and I can tell by the way he stiffens slightly that he knows this. "Has she always had nightmares?"

"I don't know," he replies, looking down with eyes squinted against the cold wind. "I didn't know about them until after the first Games, but she might've had them before."

"Oh… You have nightmares too though," I say. He doesn't stiffen this time, but I can tell he's uncomfortable. Unfortunately, this is not my revenge for being woken up so rudely.

"Yeah… yeah, I do," he replies quietly. "Don't you?"

"Nope," I whisper. "I probably haven't had a real nightmare since I was five."

He looks at me in confusion. "How do you manage that?" he asks me. I shrug.

"I've had closure," I guess. I don't actually know why I don't have nightmares, though I've been through so much. I never really gave any thought to it. But I suppose I have had more closure than Peeta and Katniss, and probably Haymitch too. But as far as I'm concerned, I've have enough to get me through the day.

Peeta and I walk into town – well, he walks, I do more of a skip – and I see dozens of people bustling down the streets.

"These people sure do know their stuff," I say, watching a group of men raise a wall on a building.

"Yeah, I guess," Peeta replies distantly, gazing at something in the distance.

"What is it?" I ask. He shakes his head and tells me it's nothing. _Liar_. Still, I let it go.

"So, um," I say, trying to make small talk, "how's your family?" Peeta stops walking.

"They died in the bombing here," he says quietly, looking everywhere except for me.

"Sorry, I didn't know," I apologize. "Are you okay? I'm here… if you wanna… Peeta?" I look to see Peeta doubled-over with his arm wrapped around his torso.

"Peeta? Oh my goodness. Peeta!" I yell, kneeling beside him.

"It's her fault that they're dead," he shouts, looking into my eyes. "Don't trust her. She's gonna kill you next. She'll do anything to hurt me!" He squeezes his eyes shut in pain, and I'm thirty seconds from having a panic attack myself. His having attacks in a gross cell was one thing, but drawing attention to himself because of them now makes me self-conscious and pressured. If I can't bring Peeta out of this now, everyone is going to see. And then I'd have ruined a new life here.

"Peeta, relax," I whisper, giving a staring passerby a glare. "You're with me now. I'm safe. You're safe. Katniss isn't going to hurt anyone. You need to come back to me, okay? I need you to open your eyes."

"They burn, Summer," he moans in pain. "My head burns." I put my hands on either sides of his face.

"Come on, Peeta. I need you to open your eyes. Please," I beg, trying to move his own hands from his face.

"I can't," he groans, resisting my hands.

"Peeta, do you remember when you were trying to guess my secret," I try, breathing heavily, "and you said I was… ruler of the squirrels or something."

"Queen," he corrects me, but his eyes stay shut tightly, and his body continues to shake. "You were the queen of the squirrels and a mermaid princess."

I giggle a bit at the memory of us sitting in that cell. At the sound, Peeta softens noticeably. This gives me an idea.

"Do you know what my favorite color is?" I ask him, gently pulling on his hands again. This time, he lets me pull them away but keeps his eyes shut.

"Uh, pink," he answers, eyes twitching.

"What kind of pink?" I ask, my eyes wide with hope.

"Like the… clouds during a sunset."

"Okay, good, Peeta. Now, open your eyes. They'll stop burning if you do," I promise, though I really have no idea. My attacks were never like this, and it seems that neither were his. With detectable nervousness, Peeta opens his eyes. They're red and puffy, but I can't tell if that's from the "burning" or just from the internal pressure he was probably putting on them. I let out a long sigh of relief.

"You're okay," I whisper, leaning my head back. "Can you stand up?"

"Yeah, I… I think so," he replies shakily as he pushes himself onto his feet. I hold my hands out in case he topples over, and when he _does_ fall a few feet later, I'm able to catch him.

"Are they usually that bad?" I ask, putting his arm around my shoulder to support part of his weight.

"No, I thought… They haven't been this bad in months… Where are you going?" he asks, noticing that I'm headed in the direction we came from.

"You need to lie down. I'll take this list of stuff you need and get it for you," I reply. He doesn't argue, but I can tell he doesn't particularly like being in this position again.

"I'm supposed to be the one helping you," he mutters as I help him up the stairs of his house.

"Don't worry," I tease. "I'm sure you'll get your turn." When I've let him fall on his bed awkwardly, I ask him if he needs anything besides what's on his list, and he says no.

Before I head back into town, I meet Katniss on her way back to her house after hunting and let her know what happened. She nods quickly and says that she'll talk to him. About what, I'm not sure. But maybe 'talk' is code for something.

Doubt it.

My shopping trip is pretty uneventful, if you don't count the five times I get lost and have to ask for directions. Normally, I'd have had no problem finding the specific shops and such on my own, but my head feels sort of fuzzy. This, I reason, was probably just the effect of the leftover tracker-jacker venom.

It's strange, to be able to walk down the streets without being stared at. Well, I'm stared at, but not for the usual reasons. I mean, who wouldn't stare at a girl who nobody had ever seen before walking around town? Also, the light blonde hair and brown eyes next to the locals' dark hair and grey eyes probably has something to do with it. I doubt that anyone notices the scar on my face, though. I imagine everyone is too busy with their own lives to look too closely at unfamiliar faces.

Eventually though, I make it back to Peeta's house with my arms filled with bags of groceries. I smirk at the familiarity of going to meet Peeta with my arms filled with things he needs. I close the backdoor tightly behind me and set the bags onto the counter. I don't know where Peeta prefers things to be kept so I just leave them as they are, aside from the jug of milk which I put in the refrigerator.

I make my way upstairs to Peeta's bedroom to check on him but stop outside the door when I hear quiet laughter. I don't need to peek to know that it's Katniss and Peeta, but I still argue with myself on whether or not I should eavesdrop. Last time I eavesdropped, I saved all of District 13 (and Peeta helped a little but… that's irrelevant). But then, I'm pretty uncertain that these two would be laughing about life-endangering actions. So then, what do I do?

I listen in, obviously. However, I make myself promise that if things between them get… "intimate" – I physically and mentally shiver at the thought – I'll leave before they ever knew I was here.

"So, you really had no idea?" I hear Peeta's voice ask with humor.

"No, I thought you were actually on their side!" Katniss returns in defense.

"But I had just announced how much I loved you in front of the entire country! How could you think I just completely forgot about that? I'd never been so embarrassed in my life," he admits.

"Well, I was caught up in the moment," Katniss says defensively, but without any real aggression. "And you didn't seem embarrassed. I'm pretty sure my face was the color of a tomato."

"So I have to ask, before this entire conversation manages to take a turn for the worst," Peeta says after a moment of their laughter.

There's a short moment of silence before I hear Katniss reply, "Ask away, Bread Boy."

"Don't call me that," Peeta tells her before moving on. "Anyway, what do you think of Summer?" My eyes light up and I lean a little closer to hear better.

"She's um…" _Uh oh_, I think, _she's hesitating. She hates me. I knew it._ "She's certainly… unique." _Unique? Well, that's not an eviction notice, so I guess I don't need to worry._

"Yeah, she is," Peeta agrees distantly. "But… you like her right?"

"She's like," Katniss pauses in thought, "an extremely perky, female version of you."

"Answer my question," says Peeta.

"I don't know," she sighs exasperatedly.

Silence.

"Why is she wearing Prim's clothes?" Peeta asks quietly, cautiously almost. _Dang, am I wearing someone else's clothes?_ "Why is she sleeping in her bed? Katniss?"

"Prim is _dead_, Peeta," Katniss replies icily.

"Yeah, I know. You won't let Haymitch and me forget it either," Peeta snaps angrily.

_Okay, I'm gonna go now,_ I think, hastily rising and silently going down the stairs. _Something tells me one of them is about to storm out of the room, and I don't really wanna be here for that._

"What does this have to do with _Summer_?" I hear Katniss demand loudly. I'm opening the front door quietly to make my escape but I'm stopped by the reply.

"I can see what you're doing. I've seen it since you shook her hand," Peeta responds, and I worry that he's having another attack. "You're trying to replace Prim with Summer!" I hear silence and then the sound of something – maybe a lamp – hit the floor. I flinch. I've only been here for twenty-four hours and I've already caused drama.

I slip out the door and run as fast I can back to my room in Katniss's house, ignoring the fact that I can't breathe properly. I prepare for the moment that Katniss stomps up the stairs and into her room, but it doesn't come.

Maybe I should call Peeta's house and "check up on him." _You don't have his phone number_, I remind myself.

I could slip back over there and make sure they're still both alive. _No_, I think,_ I'm much too lazy to run all the way over there and back again._

So, I just pull the window curtain back, and look across the street at Peeta's house. The overhead light in his room seems to still be on, and I don't hear anything else breaking, or anyone screaming so…

I must assume they are now hugging each other.

Do they even _hug_? I mean, they seem really… Well, they don't seem to like each other very much. They can't even say goodnight to each other without making the room _reek_ of awkward. And that's coming from a girl who can smell a person's stench of uncomfortable-ness from a mile away.

But just a few minutes ago, they were laughing and teasing each other. They were just friends. Best friends. And then I got brought into the conversation and it all fell to dust. But maybe they fixed it.

With that prayer in my heart, I change into some baggy pajamas and situate myself in the oversized bed.

_"You're trying to replace Prim with Summer!"_

Prim… Primrose Everdeen, I remember. Katniss's younger sister, who she'd volunteered for… Primrose Everdeen, the Girl Who was Reaped… I hadn't really thought about her. But I guess I'm wearing her clothes. _Well thanks, Prim_, I think to myself.

_"Prim is dead, Peeta."_

Oh. Well, I guess I don't really have anything to say now. I'm wearing a dead girl's clothes. Katniss's dead _sister's_ clothes. Okay then…

Mentally, I'm speechless. Emotionally, I'm kind of appalled by this situation a little bit. Physically, these clothes suddenly seem really itchy. But overall, I just really want some chocolate.

I throw the many fluffy blankets off my body and run downstairs to the kitchen barefooted. I immediately begin my search for chocolate, and I realize that I have no control when it comes to food so Katniss had better have some somewhere.

I raid the cabinets until I come across some powdered chocolate that can be used to make hot chocolate. I decide that this will have to do and grab the teapot from a shelf, fill it with water, and set is on the stove with the heat on medium. When the water is almost to a boiling point, I dump several spoonfuls of the powder into a red mug that I found in some miscellaneous cupboard, and pour the hot water in after it.

After several agonizing minutes of waiting for it to cool slightly, I finally take a huge gulp of the hot chocolate. It burns my throat, naturally, but the taste of the chocolate makes it worth it. When I've rinsed the mug and poured the remaining water from the teapot, I go back to my room and begin settling back in bed contently.

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><p><strong>REVIEW PLEASE! LET ME KNOW HOW I DID WITH PEETA'S ATTACK! please. Also, anyone got more predictions other than the mermaid kind?<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**This is the part of the story where everyone loves and praises me for such a long chapter. In the next part of the story, everyone grows impatient because we learn about most things Summer in the next chapter sooooo... reviews are wonderful! Bunch of Tangled references, see if you can spot them (they're pretty obvious!). =)**

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><p>Three weeks. Three weeks I've lived here, and the most interesting thing I've done is watch Haymitch and Katniss fight at dinner every night. Peeta's been considerably busy; he says he's preparing to reopen the District's bakery. Since Katniss leaves so early in the morning to hunt (or whatever it is she does when she doesn't bring home anything), nobody's around to tell me to wake up. It's warmed up considerably since my first days here and I find the warmer weather to be just another reason to stay inside and sleep.<p>

It's not until the first day of my fourth week in Victors Village that Peeta forces me to wake up at 7 in the morning, refusing to tell me why.

"But I like _sleeeepiinngg_," I groan into the pillow.

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," he replies sarcastically, and I rolled over, facing away from him. "Come on, I've got something to show you." Before I know what's happening, Peeta's scooped me up into his arms and is carrying me down the stairs.

"Why me?" I whine into his shoulder, but I don't struggle for fear that he'll trip over his prosthetic leg and we'll both tumble to our "doom."

He doesn't reply but instead sets me down at the bottom of the stairs. "Now go get dressed," he says. _Is he kidding me right now?_

He must see the 'are-you-crazy-you-just-carried-me-down-the-stairs' look I'm giving him because he says, "Trust me." Normally, I would protest and fall back asleep right there on the bottom step, but the look in his eyes tell me to get up.

"Bring a jacket," he tells me. "It's chilly out right now, but it's supposed to warm up in the afternoon."

"You gonna wake Katniss?" I ask, crawling up the stairs, trying to look as pathetic as possible, but he smirks at me before saying that she needs to sleep. I doubt it, but figure he must have a good reason for lying so I go back to my room sleepily and put on normal, average day clothes, with a thousand and one layers of winter clothes on top. What can I say? I'm a small girl, and I like warmth.

When I get down the stairs, Peeta chuckles at my outfit and hands me a canteen that I assume has soup in it… but I'm secretly hoping for hot chocolate.

"Here," he says as we begin our trek down the street, away from town, "I've been up all night, figured you might want some breakfast." He holds out a small loaf of bread, and although I have no idea what kind of bread it is, I know that it's warm, and that it probably tastes amazing. I don't bother commenting on the fact that he was up all night; I'm pretty sure I'm the only person around here who gets enough sleep.

"So you gonna tell me where you're taking me yet?" I question, taking a bite from the warm bread. I was right; amazing.

"Since when do we tell each other anything?" he teases, and I assume he's talking about my super secret past. I shrug.

"Maybe we could start with you telling me how your first meeting with Katniss went after you got rescued?" I suggest. He doesn't show any obvious discomfort over the subject, but his eyes dart downward.

"Well, I might have sorta kinda tried to strangle her a little bit," he admits quietly. I gape at him.

"So basically," I say, laughing, "I suffered through that entirely depressing, deranged, _psychotic_, Peeta for nothing, right?"

"Precisely," he confirms, good-naturedly. "Okay, my turn to ask a question. Now I know I'm not supposed to mention the childhood-" I nod. "-or the father-" Another nod. "-frankly, I'm too scared to ask about the scratch-"

"Scar," I correct, reaching up to touch it out of habit.

"Nuance," he hums in thought, ignoring my correction just to annoy me. I hold my breath, praying that he won't ask me a question that will ruin my entire day. "Where did those people… from the Capitol find you before you were brought here?"

"In the prison," I reply, before adding, "just a few cells from where you used to be…" He nods, accepting the answer. "Umm, when's your birthday?"

He gives me a look that says, 'Are you kidding me?' but I give him a prodding look.

"August thirteenth," he says. I grin at him.

"You legal yet?" I ask, nudging him suggestively. He feigns a disgusted look.

"Two things: One, you're disgusting," he laughs, nudging me back. "And two, it's my turn to ask a question."

"Shoot."

"How much do you remember from… then?" he asks, suddenly timid. I assume he's talking about when I helped him when he was a prisoner, but I'm not completely sure. When I ask him, he confirms that my assumption was correct.

"I remember everything," I say, my eyes squinting through the chilly wind. "I remember everything from the moment I stepped into your cell to the night I was hit on the head with a brick."

There's a paused before Peeta gives me a confused look. "I thought they'd used a syringe to knock you out," he says, giving me a worried look. I pause with just as much confusion on my face as his.

"That's what I just said, Peeta," I snap, before continuing to walk. _Gosh, it's like he wasn't even listening to me. _He seems to be trailing behind slightly with a frown on his face, but I pretend not to notice. "What about you? You remember a lot?"

His head snaps up, like he wasn't expecting me to ask him a question. "Um, I... I remember weird stuff… like details… I remember little insignificant stuff you said to me..." I realize that he seems uncomfortable and it takes me several moments of analysis to understand why.

He doesn't wanna bring up the kiss.

My immediate thought after this realization is: _Coward. You kissed me, without my consent, and you're ashamed to talk about?_ But then I acknowledge the fact that he wasn't exactly in his right mind when he kissed me, and he and Katniss are finally growing together again… Still though, has he got to make it so obvious that he's avoiding the topic? Again, I think: _Coward._

"We there yet?" I ask, still slightly irritated at Peeta's obvious aversion to the kiss though I try to move it from my head.

Why should he get to feel bad about it? Last time I checked, _he_ kissed _me_. And _I_ punched _him_. _He_ enjoyed the kiss, I felt slightly violated. _He_ then yelled at _me_ for not wanting the kiss, and _I_ convinced _him_ to save an entire District filled with the _most important people in_ _Panem_.

Pretty sure I'm the good guy in this situation, so if anyone should be uncomfortable talking about it, it's me. And while I certainly don't have any actual _desire_ to talk about it, or even think about it, the fact that he doesn't want to makes me irritated. One more time: _Coward_.

"Just a mile that way," he replies, pointing towards the forest that we were approaching.

I switch into panic mode. "Are you kidding me? The woods? Is it even safe out there? What's out there? What about wolves? What about poison ivy? Quicksand? Snakes? Bugs?" I begin asking frantically, running my hands through my hair nervously. He grins at me cockily.

"The girl who faced a dozen guards stone-faced with nothing to defend herself is afraid of some trees?" he asks me. I glare at him in defiance.

"I'm not afraid of trees," I spit, crossing my arms over my chest. Peeta begins chuckling at me, causing my glare to harden. I immediately begin removing all the coats and jackets and sweatpants I'd put on earlier because it's warm out now. I throw the clothes on the ground, now wearing just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. When I've reoriented myself, I put my hands on my hips and smirk at Peeta before taking off into the woods.

I run, and I run, and I run, and I run… which isn't as hard as it had been my first night here, but even though I slept most of the day, I got more exercise in these past weeks than in my whole life. So while my lungs still feel like bursting, my legs don't grow tired. But behind me, I can hear Peeta struggling to keep up, and calling my name. I try to block him out by making a loud humming noise in the back of throat as I run, but his voice still reaches my ears with no struggle.

"Slow down! You don't even know what you're going!" he reminds me, and I curse under my breath, but slow to a stop anyway. When I turn around, I see Peeta maneuvering over a fallen tree that I'd jumped over without a thought. My face instantly turns remorseful and I jog over to him to help him, but he doesn't take my hand when I offer it. Instead, he somehow manages to climb over it without my help… This time I think: _Oh, so now he's a stubborn coward._

"I'm not afraid of trees," I repeat snidely, but I smile at him while he rolls his eyes. He looks winded, and I again feel bad for making him chase after me. "So, um… how far off course are we?"

"Not off course at all," he says with a tone of surprise as he bends over to catch his breath. "Just a dozen yards that way I think." He points between a set of trees and I nod.

"So… what's going on with you and Katniss anyway?" I smile at him knowingly. He groans and looks away.

"I knew you'd bring it up sooner or later… I was just hoping for much later," he mumbles, trying to look distracted. I grin.

"Come on, Peeta. Spill," I demand, chuckling at his discomfort.

"There's nothing going on," he says quietly. I give him a doubtful look, which causes him to look flustered as we resume our walking. "I don't really know where her head is these days… It's hard to have a conversation with her."

"Well, how hard have you actually tried?" I ask, with a slightly know-it-all tone.

"I try every single day. She just… she hasn't been the same since Prim died…" he tells me sadly. I give fake a confused look.

"Her sister? How'd she die?" I ask quietly.

"Uh, she was trying to save some injured kids when a few bombs were dropped by District Thirteen's hovercrafts in the Capitol." I can tell that he's leaving something out, but I don't ask what it is.

"Why do you think Katniss is trying to replace her with me?" I ask softly. Peeta's head snaps up in shock.

"You heard all that?" he asks breathlessly. I nod slowly to which his replies with a sigh. "You've got that… peaceful, easy-go-lucky, soft, essence that Prim had… You also have the same soft hair color… And I could just _tell_ when you smiled at her that first night… she just saw Prim. And I didn't say anything because… I don't know, I guess I wanted to have one night without any Katniss drama."

"You guys seem really- what's the word?- hostile, ya know what I mean?" I say with uncertainty.

"Well, that may have something to do with the fact that I've been nothing but trouble to her for over a year. I'm sure it's not easy for her to wake up every morning and be constantly reminded that the most important thing in the world to her is gone."

"I thought _you_-" I start to say, but Peeta interrupts me.

"Yeah, for awhile I'd hoped so too. But I guess no one is ever going to be able to fill that void," he says with a tone of bitterness. I nod, understanding both his point of view, and Katniss's.

"My sister died a few years ago," I admit quietly, not looking at him.

"What?" he practically squeaks in a shocked voice. Suddenly, I regret saying anything.

"She's about five years older than you," I say hesitantly. "Well, she would be… She died giving birth to my niece several years ago."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" he asks, an apologetic look on his face.

"You didn't ask," I say, trying to maintain a casual tone. "We weren't very close anyway, different mothers and all." I see that Peeta's got a look on his face that says he doesn't really know how to reply. "It's fine," I continue hurriedly, trying to move on from the topic. "Everyone dies eventually anyway."

"That's not a very pleasant thing to say," Peeta mutters. "Did the baby…?"

"Oh yeah, her name's Ariadne… She's perfectly healthy, always has been. Doctors couldn't tell what happened to my sister though."

"I'm sorry," he tells me, suddenly grabbing me and pulling me into a hug. I gently wrap my arms around his torso, but my heart isn't really in it. I've never really been particularly emotional when it came to death. Must've had something to do with my upbringing…

Death is inevitable. That's what my father used to say anyway… But that was before my mother died. My heart begins to pound with anxiety.

"Peeta, I have to tell you who I-" I start to say, but he cuts me off distractedly.

"We're here!"

Are you kidding me? I think incredibly before looking around and freezing.

The area is beautiful, to say the least. I see Peeta begin walking toward the side of the perfect lake that the sunlight hits through the cracks in the tree branches in a pattern that has a stain glass effect. There's a small waterfall on the opposite side of the water that's surrounded in artistically shaped boulders. When Peeta turns to face me, I realize that my mouth is hanging open.

"How did you find this place?" I ask, raising my voice slightly over the sound of the waterfall. My grin is impossible for either of us to ignore, and it's only a moment before his face mirrors mine.

"Katniss brought me out here a couple of months ago. The lake was frozen over, but it was still stunning. This is the first of it I've seen since then. And boy, she was right when she said it was better in the warm sunlight."

Still dripping with sweat after trying to keep up with me, Peeta begins taking off his shirt.

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" I begin screaming, averting my eyes. "Dude! Put your shirt back on!" My obvious lack of desire to see him shirtless makes Peeta laugh.

"Come on, Summer!" he jeers playfully. "Nothing you haven't seen before!" I groan in annoyance before turning around, only to see him prepare to plunge into the water headfirst.

"Peeta!" I yell, running to the edge of the lake. It's only three seconds before he comes up for a mouthful of air, still grinning like an idiot. "What about your leg? Is this safe?"

"You obviously didn't see the Quarter Quell," he observes. He's right. I didn't see the Quarter Quell. Well, at least not the majority of it. I really only saw Opening Ceremony and the last day of the Quell. I'd been working on a collage of pictures from my trip to District 4 that month. It was rather boring but enlightening, nonetheless. Mostly just sand, and rocks, and water, and fish… and more sand. The pictures turned out nicely though, and it turned out to be a legitimate excuse not to watch the Games.

I shrug. "What happened?" I ask curiously. Instead of answering me, he snickers slightly and swims back under the water.

"So," he says when he comes back up for air, "are you 'not afraid' of the water too or…?" I glare at him playfully.

"I'm not getting in there," I state, sitting on a large rock by the edge of the lake. His face drops.

"Come on!" he whines. I shake my head back and forth. "Please? I'll be your best friend!"

"You're my _only_ friend," I snap, laughing.

"True that," he grins. "Come on, what's the matter? You afraid I'll see your mermaid tail? I won't tell anyone, I promise." I roll my eyes but take off my shoes and socks begrudgingly.

"Don't laugh," I warn, pulling my shirt over my head so that all I'm wearing now are a pair of jean shorts and my blue bra. My face lights on fire with embarrassment, and I can faintly see Peeta blushing as well, though he's trying to busy himself by studying a strand of grass. I seriously consider putting my shirt back on, but I decide against it. _That'll make me as cowardly as Peeta,_ I think. Instead, I slowly lower myself into the cool, but not freezing, water. As soon as my legs are submerged, I waste no time in using the water as a cover-up for my torso.

"Wow, things between us haven't been this awkward since-"

"Do you hear that?" Peeta interrupts, and at first I think that he's avoiding 'the kiss' talk, but then I see his completely serious face. I listen closely, and hear it too. A buzzing, humming sound. Almost like a million bees are somewhere nearby…or wasps, or…

Tracker-jackers.

"Peeta," I say cautiously, noticing the concentrated look on his face. There's no way I'd be able to get him out of the water if he had an attack. Oh goodness, he'd better not have an attack. It's several seconds before his eyes snap to mine.

"They're mockingjays," he tells me before looking out back into the bushels of trees with fascination.

"I thought mockingjays had soft, _pretty_, voices," I say. "Are you sure?

"Positive. I can see them up in those trees over there," he replies, pointing at a tree. "Katniss always points them out when we come out here."

"Why are they buzzing though? Is that normal?" I ask, looking for the birds, but not seeing anything.

"They imitate sound, Summer," he tells me. "So they must've heard something that sounded like buzzing and liked it."

"Oh, okay," I say, nodding, though I don't really understand. To avoid the rest of this conversation, I dive into water, being sure to splash Peeta on my way to the bottom.

It's not but a second before he's swimming after me. I try to push through the water harder and faster, but he catches up to me anyway and grabs my foot playfully, causing me to let out a squeal that goes unheard underwater. I twist my foot out of his grasp and swim to the top, gasping for air.

When I come up, I'm coughing up water, but that doesn't stop me from mercilessly splashing Peeta when he comes up. He doesn't hold back either as he swims closer to me, and dunks my head underwater.

"So I guess you really aren't a mermaid then," he says, feigning disappointment while I catch my breath. "So I guess you'll just have to be Queen of the Squirrels from now on."

"You're hopeless," I laugh, splashing him again, initiating war.

I realize suddenly that this is the first time I've really had any fun since I was five. And even then, my fun was with my parents. This was different. Peeta didn't _have_ to spend time with me. He didn't _have_ to be my friend. He didn't even have to like me. But he did.

And that was enough.

"And then… Peeta fell… in the mud!" I finish, laughing uncontrollably with Peeta.

We're all at the table in Peeta's dining room, finishing off the spaghetti I'd helped Peeta make after we'd cleaned up. Upon seeing Peeta and me covered in mud, Haymitch (or Haystack, as I'd grown accustomed to calling him) asked us where the spa was. I don't think Peeta quite understood the joke, but he laughed along with me politely anyway. I told Haymitch that I'd explain once we'd both showered, but once I was clean, I couldn't find him. So instead, I told the story while we ate dinner.

Katniss had a confused look on her face, like she was wondering what had possessed us to go swimming in a mud puddle, but Haymitch seemed amused enough.

"But why was there mud in the first place?" Katniss asks, looking at me, rather than Peeta for some reason.

"I'd taken her down to the lake you showed me and there was a marshy area nearby," Peeta answers anyway as he takes a bite out of his bread slice. Katniss looks surprised.

"The one in the forest?" she asks, leaning forward slightly. Peeta nods.

"Yeah, why?"

Katniss looks down at her empty plate for a moment before slouching slightly.

"No reason," she tells him, shrugging.

Oh no. That was _their_ place. At least, she thought it was. Oh gosh. Now I feel terrible. But Peeta doesn't seem to notice Katniss's downtrodden-ness. I think Haymitch might see it, but he's too busy picking the dirt out from under his fingernails to react.

I glare at Peeta, and he gives me a questioning look.

"You are an _idiot_," I mouth at him.

"What'd I do?" he mouths back sharply. I hit him on the back of the head.

"It's so cool that you found that place, Katniss. It's beautiful," I say, trying to focus the attention back on her.

"Huh?" Katniss's eyes popped back open. "Oh, I didn't find it. My um… My dad did."

"Oh," I say. _Nice one, Summer. You just made it more awkward._

"Well, I'm going to hit the sack," Haymitch interrupts the awkwardness. "Summer, it's getting pretty late. You want me to walk you home?"

"You mean, across the street?" I ask, giving him a confused look. He glares pointedly at me. I take the hint. "Actually, now that you mention it, I'm pretty warn out from all the swimming today." I glance at Peeta before standing up, putting my sweater on, and walking outside with Haymitch.

"You think they'll ever learn?" he asks gruffly as we walk down the driveway.

"Learn? No way, not enough drama," I reply lightly. "And after their years of hardship, they can't do anything the easy way."

"I guess you're right," he admits, nodding his head.

"What about you? Where's your drama?" I ask, smiling. He sighs and scratches his head.

"My drama is over now. I just keep getting sucked into the Katniss and Peeta show."

"Hey, I've seen much worse shows on television, haven't you?" I snap with a slightly annoyed twang in my voice. He narrows his eyes at me.

"You've got attitude," he says, nodding. "What do you think about their situation?"

"I think it's cute," I reply, smiling fondly. "They're like… oblivious to each other. They see everything around them and know what's going on, but can't see what the other is trying to do. And if they can, at least in Katniss's case, they run away."

"You a poet?" he asks gruffly. I laugh.

"No, but I've had a lot of time to myself." I realize that we're standing at the front door, and start to say goodnight before he interrupts me:

"Before you got here," he says, looking across the street towards Peeta's house, "neither of them had anyone to talk to but each other… And me, but unwillingly."

I scoff lightly.

"I don't know what all you've done for Peeta, but uh… Thanks for keeping the boy safe." I nod and smile.

"Night, Haystack," I say, entering the house. He makes a sound that's a cross between a cough and "Yuh huh," and begins walking toward his house.

It's not until I'm settling into bed an hour and a half later that I realize Peeta must not have told anyone about what happened in the Capitol. Well, like he'd told me a few weeks ago, he wasn't entirely sure if I even existed in the first place! So I completely understand why he didn't say anything but… I've been here for almost a month. Is he trying to hide something, or is the timing just not right?

I decide not to worry about it. What Peeta tells Katniss and Haymitch is his business, not mine. And who _knows_ what's going on over at Peeta's house right now.

They haven't spent the night together since my second night here, so perhaps they decided to get some sleep for a change. Or maybe they're just sitting around, awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. I never know what's going on with the two of them.

Just as I'm closing my eyes, I hear the front door swing up and hit the wall beside it violently. I swiftly sit up and listen carefully. It's not a burglar is it? That seems a bit too normal. And why would anyone break in here, knowing that this is where Katniss Everdeen lives? No, it's not a burglar, I realize. This must be what an angry Katniss sounds like.

My suspicions are confirmed almost immediately as I hear feet, stomping around downstairs, and the sound of cabinets being slammed roughly.

I tiptoe quietly down the stairs in my pajamas and robe. When I enter the kitchen, I see Katniss leaning over the sink, water dripping down her face.

"Katniss?" I call out softly. She looks up with a cold look in her eye. My own eyes widen with surprise and I tell her to sit down on the stool by the counter. She does so silently. I begin fixing us both some hot chocolate, hoping that since the drink usually relaxes me, it'll have the same affect on her.

"You wanna tell me what happened or?" I ask, pouring the spoonfuls of chocolate mix into the mugs. Katniss doesn't reply immediately, but sighs after a few seconds.

"My mother hasn't spoken to me in a year," she says quietly, staring at the mugs distantly. "She thinks it's my fault that Prim died. Won't even call me on the phone. But she calls Peeta. 'Bout once a week. Never asks about me, he says.

"My best friend hasn't contact anyone in District 12 for seven months. _Seven months._ He's been living in District 2, has some fancy job now. And he thinks that it's his fault. His _damn_ fault that my sister died."

I'm not sure where exactly she's going with this, but I do assume she's getting rid of a burden she's been carrying for awhile. So, I don't interrupt her while I pour the boiling hot water into the mugs before stirring both the drinks.

"Haymitch drinks all the time. Closest thing I've got to a parent these days and all he does is mock me and make me feel bad about myself. I don't really bother with caring most of the time, because I know he's trying to get a reaction out of me but…" she stops short, probably not knowing how to explain. I take this silence as an opportunity to set her mug on the counter in front of her and sit beside her on separate stool. She sniffles a little bit, and then takes a sip from her mug before he eyes go wide with anger.

"And then there's Peeta! Peeta Mellark… He just refuses to ever get mad at me unless he's been _poisoned_. And even then he still loves me. And I just… I don't deserve that happily married life. Not with him. He's sweet, and gentle, and caring, and perfect, and I'm hard, and mean, and selfish. And he's been so patient too. But I'm never gonna get fixed."

"Peeta says you've improved drastically since the war ended," I insert quietly when she pauses to take another gulp. "He's always glowing when he talks about you, which is pretty much all the time. He doesn't think you're broken, trust me. He thinks that you're annoyed by him, so he tries to give you space."

Silence.

"What about you?" she asks blankly.

"What about me?" I answer, looking down.

"He's so happy and careless when he's with you. I can't remember the last time we really laughed about something," she replies, not missing a beat. "What did you do for him? How do you two really know each other?"

"I kept him alive for you in the Capitol," is my quick response. "Completely worth it, by the way. I got a best friend, and you got your boyfriend back."

"He's not my boyfriend," Katniss says under her breath. I shrug.

"So what happened just now?" I ask, finishing off my hot chocolate. Yum…

"Peeta told me about the kiss."

I spit the hot chocolate back into the mug in surprise. He told her? What? My mind is racing. Why would he tell her? What did he say about it?

"Uhh," is all that leaves my mouth. Awkward…

"You punched him," she choked out, a ghost of a smile on her face. I nod sheepishly. "And you're the one who told him about the bombings in 13." I nod again.

Silence.

"Thank you," she says.

"For which part?" I ask, finally looking up. She smiles.

"All three of them."

"So… why are you so upset?" I ask cautiously.

Her face drops considerably. "I don't deserve him," she sighs, looking down. Immediately, I feel like protesting, but she continues before I can say anything. "You're the kind of girl he should be with, not me…"

I shake my head vigorously. "Are you kidding me? Peeta and I wouldn't last ten minutes in a relationship," I say seriously. "I may know how to have fun with him, but what about on his off days? I wouldn't know how to comfort him; I don't know what he's been through."

"You wouldn't call his days in Capitol 'off days?'" she snaps. I sigh.

"I knew exactly what he was going through then," I explain. "I've experienced it. But I'm no good at helping him now. I'm no good with talking to him about the trauma he's got from the Games. You are, though. You understand him better than I could in a million years."

She shakes her head. "It's my fault that he's got trauma in the first place."

"No," I say firmly, "this lies at the hands of a man far beyond simple faults."

"Snow?" she practically growls. My head spins, whether it's from annoyance, or anger, or it's all that chocolate.

"It's not _his_ fault, dammit! You think he asked for that life? Do you think anyone asks for their life?" I shout, standing up. I begin running my hands through my hair with urgency as I glare at her from across the room while I pace back forth. Katniss stares at me in bewilderment until there's a loud knock on the door. I stomp out of my haze and towards the door, to find Peeta standing on the other side, looking at me with an odd look.

"Are you alright?" he asks, staring at my face, but seemingly unable to look me in the eye.

"What do you want?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. He and Katniss both look taken aback and I'm confused as to why. I see him glance at Katniss who's standing in the kitchen archway, before looking at me again with a baffled expression. "Well? What do you want?"

"I just told you," he says with a cautious air. "I'm here to talk to Katniss."

"You never told me that," I argue angrily. They're treating me like I'm stupid! I see Katniss turn away into the kitchen quickly, but I focus in on Peeta, steadily approaching him. "How did you find out?" I snap.

"What?" he questions nervously as his back hits the wall behind him.

"How did you find out who I am?" I scream, banging on the wall beside his face. My life here is over. He knows. They both know now. If they don't me kill now, they'll have me shipped off to the Capitol before dawn, for sure. And then what? At this point, it seems as if being killed is the best option for me.

"Summer, calm down! You know I don't know anything!" he yells, his eyes wide.

"Liar!" I scream, continuing to bang on the wall.

Before I know what's happening, Haymitch is bursting through the door with Katniss behind him, looking between Peeta and me dizzily. Katniss pushes me away from Peeta, standing in front of him.

I begin running my hands through my hair frantically. I claw at my face. Why is this happening to me?

"Idiot idiot idiot idiot." I watch Haymitch shove Katniss and Peeta into the corner before approaching me cautiously.

_Fantastic_, I think, _they've ganged up on me._

The last thing I see is Peeta wrapping his arms around Katniss protectively before there's a sharp pain in the back of my head, and everything thing goes black.

* * *

><p><strong>EEK! Anyone got guesses now? Probably should've made it more discreet but, hey, if you still have no idea, good job to me, right? Haha, reviews bring faster update (also my writing brings faster update but...) Any predictions as to what may come next? Please share. =)<strong>

**PLEASE REVIEW! 3**


	14. Chapter 14

I killed my mother.

Though, I never really liked the word "killed." It always seemed too blunt, too direct. I never liked the things associated with killing. Weapons, accomplices, gore, mercilessness. No, "killed" isn't the right word anyway.

I _murdered_ my mother.

And I remember everything about the day it happened. I remember that it was freezing outside (unusual for the Capitol that time of year). I remember the green dress I was wearing. I remember the red velvet chair I was sitting on, only six years old, when my mother was screaming at me. I remember the long black dress that she had been wearing… the knife in her hand…

I remember the blood. It was everywhere. I remember that not twenty seconds after it happened, my father and other government officials rushed into the room. I remember screaming. At my mother, at my father, at the world. I remember my father's eyes darting between us before he rushed to my mother, kneeling beside her, cradling her in his arms. I remember her leaning forward, whispering in his ear before she went limp. I remember my father yelling for some guards to take me away, telling them I was a soulless demon. I remember a syringe going into my arm. And I remember being manhandled as I faded out.

I remember waking up in a cold, dirty, prison cell. I remember being dragged out of the room by my left leg to a room where I was soaked in water, then electrocuted. I remember repeating this process of torture for months, before electrocution suddenly wasn't enough.

I remember the first day I was injected with tracker-jacker venom. I remember the hallucinations I had of my father, my mother, and the knife in her hand.

That was when things got blurry.

Days passed by quickly. The torture became worse, but I hardly noticed once I was back in my cell. My arms were covered in scrapes and bruises – I never left my cell without a fight – and my legs were covered in dirt and blood. After months and months of being locked up, I had lost hope. I had lost love. I had lost purpose. I had lost everything.

And there was no point to my life.

Which is why I was so surprised when I was dragged from my cell – kicking and screaming, as usual – and up a flight up stairs to an elevator. An elevator I hadn't seen since the night my mother died. I was confused beyond belief. I didn't even have time to legitimately wonder what was going on before I was practically tossed out of the elevator and into the large suite that would be my sanctuary for the next several years. There was no explanation for my sudden release from the prison.

I remember being strangely afraid of how clean everything was. The color scheme of yellows and vanillas and pinks and whites didn't help either. This wasn't the room I'd had when I was five, was it? No. Something told me that the double queen sized bed was new, along with the other furniture.

I remember taking off my dirty clothes – now mostly rags after years of abuse – at the door before I tiptoed delicately to the bathroom, where I was reintroduced to all sorts of ways to be clean. Looking in the mirror, my face was different. Obviously, it was different. I hadn't seen it in years!

My hair was long, longer than I'd thought it was. It reminded me of my mother's hair. And I hated it. I hated her. _Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate…_

I rummaged through the cabinets and drawers until I found a pair of scissors. I gathered my hair into a loose ponytail before unceremoniously cutting it all off with one clip.

After a long shower I located a large closet with hundreds of dresses. I winced at them as I found a simple green nightgown and put it on before tentatively exploring the rest of my quarters.

There was a kitchenette – freshly stocked. There was a smaller, second bedroom, a balcony outside the main room, and a smallish television set in the main bedroom.

It was days before I had any contact with another human – if you could call Venomia a human. And even the contact I did have with others was scarce. To substitute for school, I read books. Math books, religion books (though nobody in the Capitol really acknowledged any religions unless it was a current trend), science books, psychological books, history books. Any books that I could get my hands on.

It was quite some time before I began sneaking into the prisons – enough time for my own tracker-jacker venom to disappear – to take care of the people down there.

My first friend that I made was a twenty something year-old gentleman from District 4 – Kendall - who'd been captured after walking out of the district's rebel headquarters. He was really nice, and since he wasn't really tortured very often, we were able to have real conversations without one of us having an attack. I was never exactly sure what happened to him, but after only a month of my visits, he was gone. So I could only assume he'd been, you know, killed.

The others that I cared for after Kendall were alright, but they weren't really looking for a Capitol friend like me. There were five of them – Darei, Polly, Cinna, Sawen, and Jacklan. None of them were particularly interesting, and they weren't around for long, which was just sad.

It was only one day after Jacklan 'disappeared' that the Quarter Quell ended. And by ended, I mean that the force field was shattered and a hovercraft swooped down and grabbed several the remaining victors. My heart was pounding, and I couldn't quite figure out why. That is, until I saw Peeta Mellark being taken up into a separate, Capitol, hovercraft.

He was one of the few tributes from last year's Games that I actually took some interest in along with a boy named Cato and a little girl named Rue. This year, though, my focus was on Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen. Well, my focus was on them for what little snippets I watched of the Quell, since I'd spent most of it in the guest bedroom which had become my art studio, working on a collage of pictures from my dreadfully boring District 4 trip. But I guess that I was lucky to go and get out of my house and its memories. Nonetheless, the trip was boring and Venomia's rudeness towards the locals made me sick.

The day after the Quell ended, I got sick. Like, really sick. I was so busy being sick, in fact, I had no idea how long it had been since I'd felt perfectly healthy. Eventually though, I got better, and was able to go down to the prison, where I was absolutely sure Peeta Mellark was.

And from the moment I saw him, I knew that he was different. From the start, it hadn't really mattered if he wanted me around or not – though he seemed to – because Peeta was important. And it didn't matter if we became friends or not, I just knew I had to keep him alive. If not for him, then for Katniss Everdeen.

"Peeta," I had whispered that first night. The rest of that week went by in a bit of a blur, though it hadn't seemed so at the time. And then I was stabbed with a syringe and dragged from the cell. As of now, it seems sort of symbolic, but really, it was just painful and a bit humiliating.

"Summer."

My eyes snap open at the sound of Peeta's voice, only to be shut immediately because of the bright sun pouring in through the window. I groan as a bolt of pain runs through my head.

"What's going on?" I whisper, covering my face with my hands.

"Is she awake?" I hear Haymitch call from somewhere downstairs.

"I've got it!" Peeta yells back. I flinch at the loud sound. Are my ears ringing? I can't tell, but my head feels heavy, and I feel a bit nauseous.

"Wh- what happened?" I ask, trying to get my blurry vision to focus on Peeta to no avail.

"You know, when you first got here, I thought I'd walked in on you having what was a normal attack for you," he says simply, dabbing a damp cloth on my forehead. "But then last night happened, and you proved me wrong."

I groan. "What did I do?"

"You didn't hurt anyone," Peeta assures me quickly. "Well, actually, um."

"What?" I ask, suddenly worried. Did I hurt Katniss? Haymitch? Peeta? How badly?

Silently, he holds up a handheld mirror to my face. In shock, my hand flies to the scratch marks on my face without my brain's permission. They're everywhere. The long scar that's been there for years looks almost completely faded next to the red and puffy lines that cover my face.

We both sit there quietly while I glare at my reflection for a minute before there's a knock on the door.

"Peeta, Portia is on the phone for you," Katniss calls through the door. I wonder briefly who Portia is, but don't think much of it.

"I'll be right down. Can you come watch Summer?" he says back.

I begin to protest immediately. I don't need a supervisor or a nurse or something. I'm the same person I was…

"How long was I out?" I ask quickly.

"You've been out for about sixteen hours, I think," he replies as Katniss takes his place on the side of the bed awkwardly.

Right. I'm the same person I was seventeen hours ago. I do not need a bodyguard while _I am in bed_, for goodness sakes!

So instead of apologizing to Katniss for last night which I am sure was completely inappropriate behavior, I just sit there and glower at the mirror some more while she picks at her fingernails. The difference between our obvious discomforts is that she's most likely contemplating the meaning of life in her head while I'm making a fuss over my face in mine.

Now, I've never really been a person who stresses over how they look, but knowing that I did this to myself, (whether it was out of anger, frustration, etc.) just makes me feel… uglier, dirtier. If someone else had done this, I would run around in the District's town and try to look intimidating. But because I did it, all I felt was corrupted.

We sit there for what might be hours (long enough for the sun to set) without saying a word to each other. I'm not particularly sure why, but I guess that it has something to do with whatever I did last night. After a long time, my stomach growls, breaking the silence.

"I'll go get you something to eat," Katniss announces, jumping up. I smile.

"Thank you," I reply quickly. When she's gone, I breathe a sigh of relief before closing my eyes.

I must've fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes, Peeta is sitting on my bed once again, giving me a sad smile, the rising sun behind him.

"Where's Katniss?" I ask sleepily.

"She's not feeling well, stomach virus or something. Fell asleep on the couch," he replies, his face dropping.

"I'm sorry," I say, closing my eyes again, my head still on the pillow. "Why am I so tired?"

"Just a side effect of punching a hole in the wall," I hear him laugh. My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I've never done that before," I admit quietly. "I've never hurt anyone or anything else." He doesn't say anything, but he takes my hand gingerly. "Katniss didn't by any chance mention food, did she?"

"She did," Peeta says, his face lighting up. He stands up and grabs a tray from the dresser across the room. "She didn't have much in her kitchen, and I didn't know when you'd wake up so, so I just made you some beef stew."

"Thank you," I smile at him. It's a genuine smile. And I think he notices because he returns it as he places the tray on my lap. "So who was that on the phone?"

"Portia," he answers as I take a huge spoonful of the hot soup. "She was my stylist for both Games."

"What'd she want?" I ask. After sitting in a room with Katniss for a few awkward hours, I'm suddenly very aware of how easy it is for me to talk to Peeta. The pauses in conversation aren't awkward, neither of us is afraid to make jokes at the other's expense, and we've both probably seen each other at our worst. I say "probably" because I'm not sure what happened last night, and I don't particularly want to find out.

"Actually, she was calling me back," he replies. "I contacted her assistant last week about some dresses."

I give him a look that says "Got something to tell me, Peeta?" He laughs.

"Not for me," he explains. "They're for you. Spring starts in two weeks and the twenty-third is the Spring Festival, so you'll need some new clothes."

"The what?" I ask through a mouthful of bread.

"The Spring Festival," he repeats, smiling. "District 12 does it every year. There's a bonfire, music, dancing… me…" he adds quietly, shooting me a pleading look with his bottom lip jutted out. I roll my eyes.

"How're you gonna get the others to come?"

"With my charm and good looks," he answers, flashing a bright smile. I giggle. "Katniss is going anyway, she does every year. And five years ago, they started serving alcohol in honor of Haymitch, so he won't miss it either."

"And why would _I_ go?" I ask, smirking.

"Because I asked you to," Peeta replies hopefully. I bite my lip, taking the tray off my lap and setting it on the floor opposite of Peeta.

"I don't know, Peeta," I say seriously.

"Come on," he pleads, taking my hand again. "You don't even have to dance or anything. Just come." I look at him hesitantly. "Please? I already have Portia making a dress for you and everything."

I close my eyes. "Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" I say. He grins.

"You won't, I swear. You'll love it," he promises. I can't help but laugh at the excited twinkle in his eye.

"What?"

"You're just so… different," I say as I stare at him, still beaming. "I mean… from how you were when we first met."

"You haven't changed a bit… besides the wall-punching part," he teases. I frown.

"Peeta, I think I'm ready to tell you," I whisper, looking at his hand, still holding mine. His breath hitches.

"You don't have to-" he begins, instantly understanding.

"No, I do," I interrupt, shaking my head. "But… please don't tell anyone, Peeta. It's… kind of a big deal." He nods, his eyebrows scrunching up.

"This won't change anything, Summer," he vows. I close my eyes. This is it, isn't it? I can't do this. Maybe I should just lie. Maybe I should pretend to throw up or something. Maybe I'll get lucky and any second now, Haymitch will wobble in here drunkenly.

After several moments of silence, I realize that none of these options are reliable. So I open my mouth and speak, preparing for the worst:

"I'm the daughter of Coriolanus Snow."

* * *

><p><strong>Holy shizballs. Who saw that one coming? *stares at mszcheeky* Who wants to try and explain THIS CHAPTER? hahaha. Also, can anyone spot the semi-important tie-in with Mockingjay? Yeaaah. I'm clever.<strong>

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	15. Chapter 15

There's a shattered vase on the floor, there's a dent at the bottom of the door shaped like the front of a shoe, there are several obscure books flayed out around the room, and my heart is pounding as I curl up at the foot of my bed.

Somewhere between his angry shouting and destructive behavior, I realized that Peeta was even more upset than I'd figured he would be. I had _never_ seen him that angry, not even in the Capitol. And the worst part of _this_ anger was that it was real. It wasn't triggered by a poison in his bloodstream; it was completely justified in every way.

My heart is in my stomach, and my breathing is quick and uneven. I can't understand why, but I had actually been worried that he was going to hit me or something. The pure hatred in his eyes just…

But I knew that Peeta would never hit me, that wasn't who he was. He wasn't a person who immediately resorted to violence. It was still scary though, and that's coming from a girl who _knows_ scary.

I told him it was bad, didn't I? I told him a hundred times that he would hate me if I told him. I told him I was too happy to let him go. I told him that he'd never talk to me again. I told him.

_I told him._

I consider packing up a few outfits and escaping to live in the forest, but I decide I might as well wait for him to come back and officially kick me out. No use in going outside at night if nobody has threatened to kill me yet.

"What happened?" I look up to see Katniss standing in the doorway, staring at me groggily with her arms wrapped around her torso. My eyes dart from the messed up room and back to her, trying to come up with a lie.

"He had a little attack," I fib smoothly. "But he's gone back to his place now to cool down and rest and… stuff."

She nods, appearing to believe me. "I'm not feeling too hot either so I'm gonna… hit the… Actually-" she runs off quickly into her bathroom and I hear her heaving up her last meal. My noise twitches in disgust, but I don't get up to shut the door. Instead, I remain in my fetal position and nudge my body under the covers, falling asleep with the lights on.

It's been almost two weeks. Thirteen whole days without speaking to Peeta. I've seen him in town at the newly finished bakery, and I've heard him talking to Katniss around the house, but not even once has he glanced at me.

Katniss and Haymitch treat me the same, though I can tell that they know something is up. But I can only assume that Peeta hasn't told them much, if anything, because they're still nice. I've spent the week having breakfast with Katniss (I've been getting up in the morning now) and occasionally Haymitch, but I eat dinner alone.

On the "thirteenth day without Peeta," I sit alone on a bench in town, between two buildings that are now rubble. It's quite a scene, really; two buildings destroyed in bombings with a bench between them that looks brand new. If I weren't so down, I might be able to appreciate the metaphorical sense of it all.

The people rush up and down the streets busily, everyone excited for the Spring Festival. I receive a smile here and there – word has gotten out that I'm staying with Katniss – which is nice, but it's hard to smile back when your mouth is dry, and your head hurts.

"Summer, where have you been?"

I look up from my lap to see Katniss a few feet away from me. Before I have time to come up with a half-assed excuse, she runs over and grabs my arm.

"You got a package," she tells me, pulling me through the crowds. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"A- a what?" I stutter. A package? From who? Who even really knows I'm here? Or rather, who knows I even exist?

I'm confused by Katniss's excitement. She never gets this animated. _Ever_.

As we pass the bakery, I hope to get a glance of Peeta, but he doesn't appear to be behind the front counter. Katniss continues to drag me through town until we get to her – our – house.

She releases me from her iron grip when we reach the kitchen, and the first thing I noticed is the large rectangular box on the table. The label on the top is addressed to me – just my first name, obviously – and I give Katniss a questioning look, but all she does is hand me a pocket knife.

After I struggle with the knife for several minutes, Katniss groans and snatches it out of my hand and opens the box herself. I wait behind her patiently with a slightly sheepish expression. When the box is open, I look inside, fascinated. My eyes go wide when I see that they're dresses Peeta must've asked Portia for just minutes before he ceased speaking to me.

There are several of them, a few simple floral dresses, a couple of faded dresses, and they were all perfect. But the one at the bottom of the stack really catches my eye.

The dress is hard to describe. It's a bright, solid yellow at the bottom and slowly fades into black as it reaches the dark belt that sits just below the bust of the dress, which is also black. There's a slight detection of glimmering sparkles at the bottom, but not enough to be tacky. Just enough to throw a few rays of light onto the walls and ceiling.

"Wow," Katniss says behind me, "that's really pretty." I've never heard Katniss say the word "pretty," and certainly not with so much sincerity.

"Yeah, it is," I reply distantly. I'm not sure what exactly Peeta had asked for, or how fully Portia had accepted his request, but the dresses are beautiful. To be honest, I'm surprised he hadn't called her back to cancel it, but maybe it slipped his mind.

_Or maybe he's not angry at you. Maybe he just needs time, _my mind whispers.

_No, he's angry at me_, I snap back._ Didn't you see that look in his eye?_

"Do you- um, do want to wear one tomorrow? To the festival?" I ask, setting the dress back in the box and turning to Katniss.

"I've got a few dresses from the Victory Tour," she replies, shaking her head. I frown.

"We'll have to get you some new clothes soon. It's not good to have stuff like that lying around so casually."

"What?"

"Unless you enjoyed the Victory Tour, in which case, good for you," I continue off-handedly, smiling to myself. Katniss glares at me weakly.

"So what would you propose?" she asks bitingly. I think for a moment.

"I'd wear whatever dress you can't remember wearing before. Or an outfit that doesn't remind you of something… or someone." She seems to be reflecting on it when Peeta comes through the back door, his hands filled with paper sacks. He freezes when he sees me, and my mind goes blank and haywire at the same time. His eyes jump from me to the box.

"What's that?" he asks with a tone of suspicion. I narrow my eyes at him in offense. What does he think it is? Weapons of mass destruction? Just because I'm the daughter of two psychopaths doesn't mean _I'm_ evil.

"They're the dresses you ordered for Summer," Katniss answers cautiously, not understanding our hostility.

"I told Portia not to bother," he mutters confusedly, gazing at the box. My mouth drops open as I glare at him.

"Jackass," I spit. He doesn't look at me, though. He just sets the bags on the counter before trudging out of the house with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Wow, I don't know what you did, but you have apparently pissed him off big time," Katniss comments, and I'm not sure if the look on her face is skepticism or approval.

Without responding, I pick up the large box and carefully walk back to my room, where I find myself gazing out the window towards Peeta's house. For the first time in awhile, I'm actually angry at Peeta. In fact, this may be the first time I'm truly furious at him. Before, I was simply angry or annoyed or frustrated. But something in the way he spoke to me just minutes ago stabbed my gut in the wrong way.

I hate to admit it, but I think I might actually like hijacked Peeta just a little bit more. At least that Peeta had an excuse to be such a jerk.

_Well, how would you have reacted if it turned out your best friend was secretly the daughter of the man who essentially ruined everyone – including yourself – in Panem's lives?_ my mind asks.

I guess I would've been pretty mad… But I wouldn't be an asshole like he's being. I would've gotten answers, hugged it out, and moved on with my sorry excuse for a life.

_We both know that's not true. Peeta's confused. Your – my – our father has inflicted a torture upon him that will fundamentally never leave him alone for the rest of his life. Mentally, physically, or emotionally._

He isn't even paying attention to the fact that I've said on more than one occasion that I hate my father.

_Hated_, my mind corrects.

I still don't particularly like him or anything he stands for.

_Stood for,_ I'm corrected again.

"Shut up," I finally say aloud, falling onto my bed face forward. The reasonable voice in my head is muted, and I take the few peaceful moments as a time to think about tomorrow.

It's obvious which dress I'll wear, the black and yellow one. But what about my hair and makeup? Truth be told, I've never really been one to even bother with thinking about such materialistic things, but I figure that if I'm going to wear such a showy dress, I don't want to look plain in comparison.

There's nothing I can really do with my shoulder length hair, I figure. I could curl it, I could color it, but there's really nothing else as far as I can tell.

"Hey, Katniss!" I shout. "What do you know about hair?"

There's a long pause before she answers me from downstairs, "Nothing!"

"Fair enough!" I reply, running my hands through my hair in front of the mirror. I could pin it up? No, my ears would stick out. I could braid it? It's too short for a proper braid. Pigtails? I don't want to look like a six year-old.

I give up on my hair, deciding that I'll let it do its thing tomorrow evening.

I fall back onto my bed and daydream about what the festival might be like. Will it be grand and shiny, or casual and small? Will people be welcoming or ignore anyone who isn't in there clique? Is the festival going to be confined into one area of town, or will it be spread out?

Katniss had already informed me a week ago that there's usually a folk band and a wooden dance floor to be laid out after the festival at something called a Bonfire and that the dances are normally easy and improvisational. I asked her if she'd consider teaching me, but she said that she didn't wasn't a good teacher and that Peeta would be better at it. So, I'd decided that I could just stand in a corner the whole time without dancing.

To be completely honest, I would ask Peeta to give me some pointers and an idea about what to expect tomorrow evening, but I fear that he'd say something insulting and I'd have to punch him again. I'm not really afraid of him, though. But he's probably afraid of me now.

And maybe he should be.

I want to talk to someone about this, ask them about Peeta, but Katniss wouldn't understand, and Haymitch is too sarcastic. I bet Buttercup would listen and understand (he seems to have taken a liking to me), but he doesn't speak human so I'm on my own. This is the moment I realize that I don't really have any super reliable friends, besides the emotionally incognito Peeta.

I go back downstairs after a few minutes, and find a note from Katniss, telling me that she's eating dinner at Peeta's house tonight and I'm invited to join them. _Ha, that's a good one,_ I think sarcastically. _As if Peeta will let me into his house ever again._

I eat dinner – warmed up beef stew – before heading back up to my room. I collapse on my bed in a state of numbness, only just now realizing how alone I am. I make myself promise to make at least one new friend tomorrow afternoon, regardless of who they are. I'll prove to Peeta that his attitude won't stop me from living.

If only that were true.


	16. Chapter 16

**I just saw the Hunger Games movie, you guys. The words I want to use right now are not completely human, so I'll just let you know that I enjoyed it and to review this chapter because it's good and I worked hard on it. Please and thank you. 3**

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><p>It's not until five in the afternoon that I'm able to finally drag Katniss out of the house and into town where it's impossible to deny the cheerfulness and excitement floating in the air. Many of the newly finished houses and buildings have streamers or banners hanging from their rooftops, and children push through the crowds, fighting over areas of the concrete to draw on with chalk. It's warm out, but it's not sticky and hot.<p>

I'm wearing the back and yellow dress from Portia, my hair is silky and straight, and, like most of the time, I find myself barefooted. My makeup is simple, a bit of black eyeliner and some gold-ish colored eye shadow that I'd found in Katniss's bathroom.

I'm smiling at the bustling people, but Katniss can't seem to wipe her almost permanent scowl off her face.

"You should at least try to look happy to be here," I say over the noise, nudging her. It's pointless, nudging her, because her stance is solid as a rock.

"You kidding me? This festival is lame. You shoulda seen it in its golden age," she replies sarcastically. She's dressed more formally than she'd preferred in a mid-sleeved, short green dress with her hair in its usual braid. Of course, I couldn't get her to wear normal shoes – much less trek through the streets barefoot like myself – so she's wearing her hunting boots.

"You wouldn't call this its golden age?" I laugh, continuing to pull her through the sea of people. I don't think I've ever seen this many people in District 12 at one time! Where have all these people been hiding?

"No way," Katniss scoffs dramatically, "the golden age was covered with coal and starvation. This is _way_ too dull."

"Seriously, Katniss," I say, turning to her. "You've told me how much you hate it, but let's be honest with ourselves here: You're the Mockingjay! You give these people hope. So at least try to look like you're having a good time. If not for them, then for me?" I give her my best puppy-dog eyes, and she relents long enough to give a short smile.

Good enough.

I resume yanking on her arm, giving her more than one reason to grimace at me to which I can only reply with a grin. There are women selling fruit at their stands on the sidewalk, and there's a distinct smell of roasting peanuts in the air. I inhale it with every fiber of my being, not wanting to miss a thing. I can't remember being at something this exciting in my whole life, besides maybe my sixth birthday 'party.'

We walk down the streets, finding different activities everywhere. There's no sign of Peeta, though Katniss told me that he was coming to the Bonfire tonight, as he'd be working in bakery this afternoon.

Basically, she'd told me, the Bonfire was the part of the night where parents and children went home after all the fun was over. It wasn't something that had been planned as an official event; in fact, it used to be strictly high school seniors. But apparently, the rules changed when a Peacekeeper wanted to join in on the fun, and the teenagers couldn't really deny the request for fear of being reported to the authorities. Simply speaking, the Bonfire was a bunch of adolescents and mostly young adults (and Haymitch) getting drunk around a huge, well… Bonfire. I don't really drink, though I've had many a glass of wine in my life, but I guess it couldn't hurt to show up. And I haven't forgotten the promise I made to myself last night: _Make at least one new friend tomorrow afternoon, regardless of who they are._

We spend four hours – probably the most thrilling hours of my life so far – killing time all over the town before it's finally eight-thirty and the families are steadily shuffling into their homes. It's easy for me to pick out the thirty-something people who are going to the Bonfire because of the way they're dressed, and the psyched looks on their faces. Katniss seems indifferent – I wonder if she'll be the only sad-drunk there – she certainly has enough reason to be.

The two of us follow a group of young men, probably in their early twenties, to a spot on the complete opposite side of the District from Victor's Village – Katniss says it was previously called the Seam, then mumbles something about shame and dishonor, which I don't quite catch.

"Any advice when it comes to these people?" I ask her anxiously as an area with fairy lights hanging sloppily from some nearly dead trees comes into view.

"Are you asking me for boy advice?" she raises an eyebrow at me. I blush.

"N-no, I-I meant," I stutter. "Are there any people here that I shouldn't… pay any mind to?"

"I didn't recognize most of the people at the festival, but just in that group in front of us alone, I should probably tell you to stay away from the guy with the short black hair," she warns me quietly, her arms in their usual crossed position.

"Why him?" I ask, standing on my toes slightly. As it is, it's dark out, and I'm barefoot, and I'm avoiding sharp sticks everywhere.

"He's just bad news. Definitely not the kind of guy you'd want to be friends with," she deadpans. I nod and say that I'll avoid him then. I'm not sure what she means, but I trust her judgment. _I'm_ not even sure exactly what kind of guy I'd want to be friends with anyway.

_Peeta_, my mind whispers, thus engaging my entire mind in a long and intense battle.

Before I know it, I'm being handed a bottle of some kind of beer while Katniss walks over to a bench where she sits down. I look at the person who'd handed it to me and see the boy with short black hair from before. I'm vaguely aware of several musicians playing their instruments as my eyes widen in surprise.

"Thank you," I say with a polite but tight smile. I turn away from him slightly, waiting for him to leave, but he doesn't move. "Can I help you with something?" I ask, turning back to him. He flashes what I think is supposed to be a charming smile at me and shakes his head.

"Autumn, is it? You're staying with Everdeen, right?" he asks. I notice a bit of a country accent going on, so I suspect he hasn't always lived here. That probably means he knows how to bed a girl.

_Particularly a drunk girl._

"It's _Summer_, and I live in her home, yes," I reply carefully, trying to discreetly get Katniss' attention. I shake my head distractedly. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Name's Kendall," he says, bowing his head slightly. My mind flickers at something, but I'm not sure what. "So where are you from?"

I take a gulp from the bottle of alcohol before replying, "I'm from the Capitol, originally. I'm an old friend of Peeta Mellark's so I'm staying with them for awhile. And you?"

"I'm from Four. Spent some time in the Capitol a few years ago, as well. Mostly business, though," he chuckles as if he'd made a joke.

"So what are you doing here?" I ask, taking two more gulps from the bottle. The taste is dry and burns my throat, but I've had worse back in the Capitol.

"I'm actually only visiting my friend-" he begins with a smile, but stops when he sees something behind me. I whip around to find myself staring at a glaring Peeta. But he's not glaring at me, for a change. His harsh gaze is fixed on Kendall.

"Peeta, get out of here," I say quietly, looking at my feet.

"Don't tell me what to do," he snaps back, just as calmly. I sigh inwardly. What is he doing? If he's trying to be protective, he's already lost his right. "What's going on here?"

"We were just talking," I say, even though it's obvious that the question was directed at Kendall. "Not that it's any of your business." I gently shove his arm, but he doesn't budge. I bite my lip in frustration. "Leave me alone, Peeta."

"No," he says determinedly. I'm glaring at him now. He glances down at me. "You shouldn't be drinking."

"I'll do whatever I want," I snap angrily. "You can't control me. You're not my father." In a flash, his hand is gripping my arm tightly. I freeze, remembering that night he kissed me in his cell.

"Damn right, I'm not your father," he growls. I feel him being pushed away from me by Kendall.

"Hey, what's your problem?" I hear him ask. I take a step backwards in discomfort. Peeta is going to ruin this night for everyone; I can feel it in my gut.

Peeta doesn't reply as he stumbles backwards a little bit before walking away towards Katniss.

"Must be nice having one of Panem's most influential people as a friend," Kendall says lightly. I chuckle distractedly, still caught off guard by Peeta's behavior.

I'm about to reply when my attention is drawn toward the music being played a few yards away from me. I recognize it as a District 4 song from when I'd visited over a year ago. They'd played it during one of their celebrations, and I remember being pulled into a circle of people joining hands and learning the dance. It's a cheery tune, and I notice the light in the musicians' eyes as they play.

I remember the way that back in Six, everyone couldn't help but join in with the fun. The song was magical, and the dance could make a person feel weightless. Without really thinking about it, I find myself running out onto the empty, wooden dance-floor that was laid out in front of the musicians, but far enough away from the bonfire to keep from catching fire.

The steps to the dance are easy, and after a moment of concentration on the moves, I begin to realize just how enchanting the tune is. In a spark of confidence, I rush over and grab a staring Katniss away from a scowling Peeta and pull her back to onto the wood floor, all the while continuing to bounce to the beat. Without missing a beat, she's following my feet and hands' movements with no struggle at all, and I wonder briefly if she's ever danced to this song before.

It's after a couple of minutes of just us doing the simple tiptoe jumping, that I become aware of the fact that everyone is watching us in awe. A few couples join hands around us and begin doing the doubles' version of the dance. The people who don't join in are clapping to the beat loudly, making Katniss falter modestly for a moment.

I let out a loud laugh, partially from joy, but mostly from the irony at this situation: The Mockingjay, the face of the rebellion, dancing hand-in-hand with the daughter of the man she rebelled against, the man who ruined her life. I speculate if Peeta has noticed this yet, but I'm pulled away from the thought by Kendall, who's taken my hands, nudging us both into the doubles' step design.

"You know," he shouts to me over the music, grinning, "it's said that whoever you're dancing with at the end of this song… You'll eventually marry them."

"Well, then," I grin back at him, "I'd better get as far away from you as possible!" As if on cue, everyone with a partner rotates around the circle. I glance to my left to see Peeta dancing with Katniss, looking less cheery than everyone else here. I wonder how much he's had to drink…

I realize a moment too late that I'm twirling towards him, and his hands are entwined with mine. We're both overdramatically stiff, but we keep turning with the others. I open my mouth to apologize, but I see the faraway look in his eyes as he tries to glare and me, and decide to save it for another time. This angry, intoxicated Peeta wouldn't appreciate anything from me, much less an apology. But with that in mind, would a sober Peeta appreciate it?

There's another switch of partners, I find myself with Kendall again, the confusion of Peeta's presence gone. I feign shock and disgust, causing him to grin, before I gracefully push away from him and accidently land back into Peeta's arms. I'm frozen for a moment as I stare up at his own gaze, but snap of out it as I try to twirl away from him while pretending that nothing's wrong. The music gets faster for a moment, and louder. I'm suddenly dizzy. Maybe I shouldn't have had that entire bottle of cheap beer…

I rush off of the dance floor, and place on hand on my head, the other on my stomach, both of the areas feeling bubbly in a way that wasn't comforting. I hear the song end in front of my turned back, and there's a short round of applause for the band and dancers.

I try to shake the feeling off, and head to a table where there's an open seat. I let my head fall lazily onto the table, hoping to get rid of this nauseous feeling.

"So then," Kendall says as he sits in the chair beside me, "I guess the wedding's been called off?"

"You aren't really my type anyway," I smirk, rubbing my forehead against the table.

"Oh really? And what is your type?" he asks, putting his head on the table, face down beside mine.

"Certainly not the kind that spends all night flirting relentlessly with the same underage girl," I quip. He feigns a shocked gasp.

"Who said I was flirting? Maybe I was just trying to be a gentleman," he replies dramatically. I freeze.

"No way!" I shout, throwing my head back in excitement. "Are you kidding me?" I hold his head up by his hair and stare at him silently for a few seconds. "Oh my goodness! Don't you remember me?"

"Um," he responds blankly. "Did we hook up or something?" I laugh.

"No! We met in the Capitol. I can't believe you don't recognize me!" I say excitedly.

"Well, I guess I'm a lot older now, but I like to think I have some pretty recognizable features like…" I begin mumbling coherently before Kendall shakes my shoulders awkwardly.

"Wait… you're Summer? As in, little twelve year-old Summer?" he asks urgently, a smile creeping onto his own face. I nod my head quickly, grinning uncontrollably through my blush. So what if his last memory of me is when I had little pigtails and was a foot shorter? At least he remembered me at all!

"I can't believe it's you!" I squeal, rocking side to side in pure happiness. "I thought you died. But you didn't! What happened?"

"I-I'm not sure. One day I just fell asleep and then woke up on a train to District 12. No explanation," he tells me. I barely hear it though; I'm too busy screaming in my head. "I was one of the first people that managed to get out before the bombs hit. I was also one of the first people to get sent back here after the war."

"Well, I guess you should stop flirting with me now then," I giggle. He shrugs off-handedly.

"I don't wanna make Mellark any more pissed off than he already is anyway," he says with a smirk. I frown.

"He talked to you?" I ask, leaning forward.

"No way, but I can tell how protective he is of you."

I snort with laughter, but it's sarcastic.

"Oh, no," I say, "that wasn't him being protective. That was him trying to ruin my life and failing miserably."

"I thought you two were friends," he says. I pause.

Had I used that word before? Must've been a slip of the tongue. But aren't we still friends? Friends go through rough patches sometimes. I mean, they're not usually because of one friend's family background… But they're rough patches nonetheless. I wonder, though, that if someone were to ask Peeta if we were friends, what he would say. Would he tell them I was just a deranged girl from the Capitol? An old family friend?

Maybe he'd tell them the truth.

_"She's a monster."_

The words aren't spoken aloud, but I hear them in my mind as if they had been. I'd promised myself several months ago that I needed to stop blaming myself, that I needed to let myself be happy. But with Peeta's reaction to whom I am, maybe it's just a sign that I _am_ a monster. Perhaps all those dark thoughts I had long ago weren't so unjustified.

"He's just an angry drunk," I lie smoothly. Well, it _might_ be a lie. I've never witnessed a drunken Peeta before, so maybe he is an angry drunk. But to be honest, he doesn't really seem like someone to get drunk at all. So maybe I'm even the cause of _that_.

Or maybe he really couldn't care less about me, and I need to stop thinking I'm the only person in his life.

"Summer, where did you go?" a breathless Katniss asks, walking up to us.

"Headache," I grimace. She nods distractedly, just now noticing who I'm sitting with.

"Is he bothering you?" she asks me, staring at Kendall coldly.

"I was actually just about to head home," I say, smiling at Kendall. Katniss knows that I'm avoiding her question, and instead of questioning me further, I see her glare at Kendall and mouth something that I can't make out. But he sees it. Understands. Nods his head politely. She responds with a frustrated groan.

"You go ahead," she says, turning back towards me before Kendall shoots me a sly smile and slips away. "I'll get Peeta, and we'll catch up with you."

"Oh, no, you should stay. Have fun. Get drunk," I try, not wanting to spend any more time with Peeta tonight. All he does nowadays is make me sad.

"No, really. I don't drink anyway," she remarks regretfully. I shrug.

"Whatever floats your boat," I say offhandedly, though I'm actually a bit put out. Katniss shoots me a curious look, and I explain, "I mean, yeah, go ahead and get Peeta. I'll meet up with you guys down the road."

Of course, the way back to Victor's Village is longer than I'd thought, and the only light is from the full moon above me. I walk quickly through town, listening to my own bare feet slap against the concrete with every step. I have no intention of "meeting up" with Katniss or Peeta. I just want to walk in the dark by myself, if only for a moment.

Since I was little, I always found darkness as more of a comfort, rather than as a scary blob of unknown. Well, it was unknown, but the unknown gave me hope. I saw what was happening in Panem, in the Capitol, even in my own home! I saw the immoral things occurring every day while people encouraged them, fought for them, and pressured others to take place in them. I didn't like what I knew.

So I guessed that if all I knew was bad and scary, then the unknown could only be happy, right? I'd find later in life that my theory wasn't completely true, but that didn't mean the darkness wasn't still an escape of mine.

Obviously, I'd always had those instinctive fears of something hiding in the night, waiting to jump out and kill me. And each time that particular fear snuck into my mind, I wouldn't run to my parents' bedroom. I wouldn't cry out for help. I wouldn't hide under the blankets. I'd sit up as straight as I could, head held high, and smile at the blankness. And with the biggest grin my tiny face could conjure up, I would whisper:

_"Come and get me."_

And even though my eyes are cast downward tonight, my aura feels the same. I put up the brave shield. If monsters in the night can smell fear, then I do not exist. When I was little, I did the proud and brave gesture as a way to rub in the monsters' faces that I was not afraid, even though I often was.

Tonight, I do the things I did as a child. But now, I'm really not afraid. If something were to jump out of these bushes outside town as I walked passed, I can't see myself cowering.

Before I know it, my feet are carrying me up the front steps of Katniss' house. Maybe I should start referring to it as "our" house, but I still feel a bit like an unwanted guest sometimes. My hands, sweaty from being balled up into fists for the past fifteen minutes, fumble clumsily with the doorknob when I hear a voice from behind:

"Lost?"

I whip around and see _him_. _He_ hasn't changed. His short brown hair. His sharp facial features. His grey eyes. His thick arms. His cool expression. Memories from my last days in the Capitol rush through me, and I'm angry.

"You!" I shout, charging toward him. And whether it's from the alcohol or the poison in my blood, I tackle him to the ground and start throwing my fists at him.

I think I'm yelling profanities at him, but they fall flat as I focus my energy on punching. His face, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. They're all too familiar, and I don't like it.

I can tell that he is trying to push me off carefully, but I don't budge. I don't pause to take a breath. I just keep hitting. At some point, I become aware of Peeta pulling me back roughly, yelling at me to calm the hell down. I keep swinging my legs in the air violently.

Who is he, to come here, to my safe haven? And who is Peeta to pull me away from my own battles? He doesn't get to protect me anymore. Never again.

Katniss is crouching down beside _him_, trying to help him sit up. I hear both her and Peeta gasp, and if Peeta's lock on my arms wasn't so tight, I'd take the opportunity to resume clawing at _him_.

"Peeta, will you- um, take Summer inside? She's having another attack," Katniss stutters. Peeta hesitates slightly, but doesn't loosen his grip.

"No, I'm not!" I yell, kicking the air harder as Peeta lifts me back up the steps to the house. "Tell them what you did to me! Tell them! Let go of me, Peeta!"

He doesn't respond, but instead carries me up the stairs and into my room, where he locks the door after tossing me onto my bed.

"What the hell is your problem?" he demands. I think that maybe if he didn't hate me so much, he might've come over and sat by me on the mattress. But because he _does_ hate me (or at least, who I am), he leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Well?"

"That's none of your business, _Mr. Mellark_," I snap angrily. His eyes roll at the name.

"If you think you're going to 'charm' your way out of this, you're wrong," he tells me with just has much bite. "You can't just beat random people on the street up and get away with it."

"He's not random," I reply urgently. "He tortured me for answers! Back in the Capitol! Just after the war ended. He was one of the soldiers that cleared out the mansion." His eyebrows rise, but he doesn't look concerned for my sake. He's doesn't care that I was mercilessly tortured by the man who is now alone with his… with his… with Katniss. This makes me angrier.

"Listen," he starts, his voice droning, "I don't like Gale Hawthorne any more than you seem to, but he's Katniss' friend, so you should at least pretend to not want to rip his heart out."

So he has a name: Gale Hawthorne.

"I don't want rip his heart out," I argue bitterly. "I just want to mess his face up a little bit… How do you know him anyway?"

"Long story," he replies curtly, looking at his shoes. When I realize that he has nothing else to say, I let out a prolonged sigh.

"You can leave now," I tell him coldly. His eyes snap up to mine and I feel compelled to shift under his cold glare.

"So can you," he replies. My eyes widen in hurt. _That's it._ I push myself off of the bed roughly and swing my fist into his nose. He staggers backwards against the wall in pain. I stand up straight and press my forefinger into his chest as tears fall down my cheeks.

"I am not my father. So don't treat me like I was the one who made you suffer," I whisper harshly. "Now get the hell out of my room." Without waiting for a probably insulting response, I open the door and push him out.

My face is burning, and my knuckles hurt from all the punching I've been doing.

Admittedly, I have been more physically violent in the past month than I have in my whole life, but until now, I didn't really feel the need to be. Sure, I would be willing to throw a punch if only to get away from danger, but I've never really been one to participate in violence, much less initiate it.

He deserved it though. They both did. I'm sick of being treated poorly because of my father, and I'm sick of men thinking that I'm nothing.

Maybe once upon a time, I was nothing. But now I have a life, and friends, and a house, and courage.

But perhaps that's the problem. Maybe I had better self-control before because I couldn't afford to make anyone mad at me. I couldn't lose anyone else. Is this what my life is going to be like from now on? Will I punch people every time they defy me? Every time they insult me? I don't want to be a monster.

All my life I've been repeating a mantra in my head: _I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my mother. I am not a monster. I am not my father._

But I guess I'm more like them than I want to admit. Being the victim, you seldom have the chance to become yourself. But being someone's equal or superior, that's when your true self rises to the surface.

So then, the question is, is this my true self? Is this who Summer Snow is? Is she a violent, mouthy, materialistic, person? Is she destined to become her father? Or is she destined to become her own kind of monster?

_I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my mother. I am not a monster. I am not my father._


	17. Chapter 17

**Due to sort of popular demand, here is the next chapter wooooooooooooooo.**

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><p><em>He<em> – Gale, I internally correct myself – is sitting in my seat at the kitchen table. I haven't been awake more than ten minutes, and I'm already angry about something.

I'd woken up this morning with drastically smeared makeup and a ruffled dress. After changing into one of the floral dresses from Portia – I made a mental note to send her a thank-you note – I ran a wet washcloth over my face, removing most of the smudged eye shadow from last night.

Instead of talking to Gale – I liked it better when he was just, _him_ – I pretend like I don't notice him eating a freshly made cinnamon bun as he sits in the same chair I sit in every day. I prefer the seat because I like the way it's not directly against the wall behind it, but I can see the entire room without moving a muscle. It makes me feel safe and aware when I sit there. But now that I see Gale sitting there, it's just another way to make me feel inferior.

Maybe he planned it that way when he sat down.

I don't say anything, and neither does he. But when I've finished pouring my cereal and milk into a bowl, I purposefully sit down in the seat directly across from him. He stares at me with interest, and I can't imagine that he doesn't recognize me.

As I jab my spoon is the cereal repeating, I glare at him. My left hand is in my lap, clenched in a tight fist, and it takes all of my self-control to resist punching him again, just for the hell of it. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm not actually eating this cereal, just scrambling it in the bowl. My eyes are narrowed.

"I'm Gale," he introduces himself, quietly but clearly. His gaze is steady, as is his voice, unlike mine which are shaking in concentration. Maybe if I stay like this long enough, his head will explode or something.

"I'm not interested," is my firm reply as I finally take the first bite of my cereal. And that's that.

Later that day, after an afternoon of feeding the geese with Haymitch, I find myself sitting at the dinner table in Katniss and my house. Beside me are Haymitch and Katniss, and across from us are Gale and Peeta. I'm not even sure why I'm here. I've had dinner by myself for the past three weeks because I didn't want to make him mad at me while I was trying to eat.

And now this makes even littler sense, as now Peeta's angry at me, and I'm angry at him and Gale – if you could even call my feelings toward Gale anger. It's more like an unadulterated loathing sort of thing. My glare is focused on Gale, who's looking at his plate, while Peeta seems to be trying to steady his gaze on Katniss. And Katniss is eating her lamb stew like nobody's business.

"So," Haymitch says after gulping down a spoonful of his own stew, "cool party last night, huh?"

My eyes flicker to him. I'd forgotten that he was even there! I must've been so caught up in my own world to realize that he'd been at the Bonfire. Wait… Haymitch is drinking again?

When I ask him, he laughs. "I never stopped," he cackles. "I'm just bathing now."

"That's a higher accomplishment than not drinking," Katniss remarks sourly. Haymitch just laughs harder.

"I think drinking rots your organs," I say off-handedly. I'm suddenly aware of everyone – save Gale – staring at me with shocked expressions.

"This, coming from the girl who must've had at least four bottles last night," Peeta sneers. I grip my spoon tightly and think that it's a good thing we're not having a meal that requires a knife and fork.

"I only had one bottle," I defend myself coolly, though my knuckles are white. "But unlike you, I don't need to have a whole bottle of whiskey to show my true self."

"_Your_ true self?" he snaps angrily, pushing his chair back as he leans over the table. I swear, if he tries to use my father as an insult to my personal well-being one more time…

"You are who you are, Peeta," I reply steadily. My toes are curled under the table as I fight to stay seated. "Not your parents."

"So you don't think that parents have a legitimate influence on who their children become?" he quips. I pause for a moment before replying, finally feeling significantly unsettled.

"I don't know if you remember, but I recall mentioning several times that my parents hated my guts and had me locked up," I remind him, tears welling up in my eyes. Before they have the chance to spill over, I look over at Katniss, see the confusion in her eye, and glance at Gale hoping to be pushed out of my frustration by seeing his face. Unfortunately, remembering that I'm angry at him _and_ Peeta doesn't help the tears. Instead, his expressionless gaze makes me feel alone. "Stop staring at me like that, dammit!" I snap at him before stomping to my room.

Before I close my door softly, I catch the sound of Haymitch yelling at Peeta, and the tears escape. I don't want anyone to get yelled at. Or defend me. Or be mad at me. Or rely on me. Or know I exist.

I wish I hadn't told Peeta about me. He doesn't even know about my mother yet. How would he react to that? He'd want me away from Katniss probably more than he already does.

_Not if you explained it to him the way it really happened_, my mind says.

_As if _I_ knew what happened!_ I argue in reply.

Maybe I could move in with Kendall. I wonder if he'd mind. I did keep him alive for a long time…

No. Even if I did ask him for a favor, that would not be my leverage. I didn't help people in those cells so that they could be my personal slaves later in life. That's probably how my parents operated though.

Even through the door I can hear Peeta and Haymitch yelling at each other, and I consider just storming out of the house right then and there, but I wouldn't know where to go. I feel frustrated all over again and slide down the wall until I'm just awkwardly sprawled out on the floor.

Eventually, the shouting stops, and I think that Katniss has gone with Peeta to his house. I'm not sure if Haymitch is gone, but I can tell that Gale is still here. I can hear his heavy, solid footsteps in the kitchen. I can't tell, though, if he's pacing or doing the dishes. And then I feel guilty because he shouldn't be stuck with doing the dishes-

What am I saying? Why do I feel bad for him? The _least_ he can do is wash a few bowls and plates.

I find myself in my bathroom, standing in front of the mirror. My hair is passed my shoulders now. My eyes sting when all I can see is my mother. I see her cheek bones, her jaw, her hair. Eyes narrowed, I rummage through the medicine cabinet above the sink, searching for a pair of scissors. After several moments of my fingers fumbling around, I pull out a pair of metallic scissors. I breathe deeply through my nose before steadily lifting the scissors to my hair-

_Knock, knock, knock._

I drop the clippers into the sink and look down at them in frustration. _Just ignore it, Summer. Just ignore it._ I take another deep breath and once again raise the scissors up by my face.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock._

I curse under my breath before making it a point to stomp loudly to the door. I throw it open to find Gale on the other side, looking at me cautiously.

"You alright?" he asks. Instead of responding, I begin to shut the door. "Whoa, wait!" His foot is suddenly between the door and the wall.

"What do you want?" I groan, rolling my eyes as I open the door wider but not enough to invite him into my room.

"Why did you try to murder me last night?" he questions, squinting slightly in curiosity. My eyes squeeze shut in pain. I'm aware of my blood suddenly boiling, but I control it. No need to look vulnerable in front of him.

"You must be a real coward," I spit. He gives me a confused stare. "A one hundred and ten pound girl jumps on you and starts punching you… you call that a murder attempt? Or are you just trying to be charming?"

"Um…"

"Trust me when I say that if I wanted to kill you, I would." There's truth behind the words, but it doesn't matter because I would never kill someone. I sigh heavily as I try to close the door again, but Gale's foot apparently hadn't moved since the last time.

"Seriously, what's your problem? You're treating everyone like dirt," he remarks. Who does this guy think he is? He can't just show up and start commenting on how I live and how I treat people. Maybe he should talk about how he treats people.

"That's _really_ none of your business," I say tiredly. "Listen, I'm ready for this day to be over, so if you'd move your foot-" But before I can kick his foot out of the door's way, he pushes past me and into my room. "Get out."

"Not until you talk," he replies, crossing his arms. "What's got Mellark so ticked off?"

"Let's just say that I'm from the other side of the train tracks," I answer quickly. "And for the record, I don't feel comfortable with a strange boy in my bedroom."

"Not that strange," he says distractedly. I can see him glancing at the bathroom, trying to be sneaky about it. He knows that I was in there. "I'm Katniss's friend."

"Yeah, I know. She mentioned you once," I say, walking to the opposite side of the room and closing the bathroom door. He smirks at me knowingly.

"Really?" he asks doubtfully. "And why was that?"

"She was crying and complaining about the people in her life. Or rather, the people who _weren't_ in her life." He looks shocked and guilty as he leans against the wall.

"I couldn't come back," he admits, squeezing his eyes shut. I roll my eyes. I am in no mood to play therapist or best friend – especially not with Gale.

"Listen, I'm going to be completely honest with you for three seconds," I say unenthusiastically. "I don't care."

"I didn't abandon her," he tells me suddenly, looking at me now.

"No, you didn't," I reply sarcastically, opening my bedroom door again. "You just stayed out of touch for a year." He raises at eyebrow at me.

"Don't pretend like you know me," he says.

"I don't want to know you."

"Oh, but you do."

"Why would I possibly want to know who you are."

"Curiosity."

"I grew out of curiosity at a very young age," I snap. I become aware that we're only a foot away from each other. I take a step backwards, and he makes no move to come towards me.

"We should go on a date," he says thoughtfully. I jump backwards in appall.

"No, we shouldn't. Now get out." He shrugs, walking out, but before I get the chance to close the door, he says something with a smirk that makes me freeze, slam the door in his face, and stomp angrily back to the bathroom, ready to cut my hair:

"Sweet dreams."

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><p><strong>Haha it's not even what you guys think it is.<br>At all.  
>You're wrong.<br>All of you.  
>You know nothing.<strong>

**Also, mszcheeky: OMG GURL BACK OFF GOSH WHAT ARE YOU THE FREAKIN FANFICTION POLICE WAAAHHH I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE YOU HAPPY BUT YOU ARE NEVER SATISFIED. SO WHAT IF I BROUGHT PORTIA BACK FROM THE DEAD MIRACULOUSLY? 3**

**Review!**


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, I'm pleasantly surprised to find that Gale is nowhere in sight. So as I eat my breakfast in the kitchen alone, my mind is at ease. That is, until Katniss rushes into the house, her hair messily unbraided.

"What is it?" I ask, standing up.

"Summer, what did you – Wait, did you cut your hair?" Katniss asks in shock.

"That doesn't matter," I answer. "What's going on?"

"I think Gale's gone into shock or something," she tells me. "He's out on the front lawn, just sitting there. He never just sits still. When I asked him what he was doing, he said that he was waiting for you to accept. What does that mean?"

My eyebrows furrow together. _What? Accept what? _I walk to the front window and peek out the curtain, and sure enough, he's there. Just then, Haymitch wobbles into the house with Peeta trailing behind him with a bored expression on his face.

"Oh good, everyone's here," I mutter sarcastically. Instead of wasting his time glaring at me, Peeta heads to the den and pulls a large book from a shelf before sitting on the couch and reading it. _What is that, the dictionary? There's no way he's actually reading that._

Haymitch and Katniss, being their meddling selves, shuffle to the front window and stare at Gale, not even trying to disguise their interest.

"What's he doing?" Haymitch murmurs, squinting confusedly. Katniss tells him, and he nods understandingly. I'm still confused though. Does everyone else understand this situation but me?

Annoyed at the three of them for excluding me, I trek up the stairs to my bathroom and take a long, hot, uninterrupted shower. Two hours later, when my hair has dried and I've gotten dressed, I go back downstairs. I shouldn't be surprised – but I still am – when I see that the trio hasn't moved an inch. I don't even think Peeta turned a page in his book.

"What if he stays forever?" Haymitch asks, scratching his head. "What if he never leaves? What if he dies out there?"

"And then his body is ravaged by raccoons," Katniss adds. I raise both my eyebrows at them. What are they talking about?

"And he even then he _still_ doesn't leave," Haymitch nods. "Because that's how strong his love is."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?" I screech. None of them glance at me. "Ugh." I angrily stomp out of the house and onto the lawn and push Gale over, out of his meditative state.

"What are you doing?" I yell, kicking him a little bit. "They're making fun of me in there! You can't just waltz in here and make my life worse."

He gives me an innocent look. "I was just looking for a nice deer to shoot."

"Two things," I say through my teeth. "One, even _I_ know it's not deer hunting season. Two, even if it was, you wouldn't see one on Katniss's lawn."

He laughs but doesn't reply.

"And if you're trying to get me to accept your hideously unromantic date proposal, you'll be out here for a _very_ long time," I state simply. He laughs even harder. "Why do you keep laughing at me?" I demand.

"I don't actually want to go on a date with you," he confesses, grinning. I shake my head confusedly. For some odd reason, I feel rejected. Why? I don't like him anyway.

"Then what are you waiting for me to accept?" I squeak, glancing at the window where I can see Katniss, Haymitch, and now Peeta's eyes staring at us. I cross my arms over my chest self-consciously.

"Defeat," he replies smugly. My face drops considerably. For the first time in days, I don't feel angry, or aggressive, or guilty. I just feel sad and yes, defeated.

"Why are you here?" I whisper brokenly. I don't know if he was anticipating my response, but he pats the ground beside him. Awkwardly, I sit criss-cross in the warm grass.

"I came back here to try to restore a bit of my friendship with Katniss," he says, looking at me. "I knew that it was the night of the Spring Festival, so I thought I'd wait on her front porch until she got home. But then I saw you and had no idea who you were, so I called out… And you attacked me."

I stare at him. "Is that it?" I ask blankly. He gives me an odd look.

"Are you going to explain why you attacked me?" he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. I sigh.

I think I should be angry that he doesn't have the audacity to remember me after he… assisted in torturing me. But I'm tired of being angry at everyone.

So in my mind, there are two paths I can go down: the angry, unforgiving, path that my parents took, or the "old Summer" path that used to be the shiniest up until several weeks ago. I don't want to be angry anymore, but I can't go back to pretending that my life hasn't sucked for the most part.

So what do I do then?

"I mistook you for someone else," I lie simply. He raises an eyebrow at me.

"And you didn't realize that until now?" he asks, obviously believing me.

"Nope," I said with a shrug. This is when he squints his eyes at me, not sure if this part is a lie or the truth. I roll my eyes in response to his doubt externally, but I'm actually relieved that I have one less enemy in Twelve.

But he's _not_ my friend.

"Want an orange?" he asks, pulling one out from the basket behind him. I glance at it before taking it.

"What's District 2 like?" I ask randomly. I think I remember Katniss mentioning Two at some point. But it could have easily been one of the others.

"It's… different from here," he answers, looking around. "It's definitely shinier. Colder."

"What do you do there?" I ask.

"Mine, mostly. Same thing I did here. But recently, I've been helping train the new 'Peacekeepers.'"

"Sounds intense," I say with a small smile as I awkwardly try to peel the orange with my fingers. He nods distractedly.

"Are they still watching us?" he asks with a grin. My smile grows as I look back at the window.

"I think they gave up," I giggle. "Or at least, they're being more discreet."

"Can't blame 'em," he comments. "They're probably waiting for you to attack me again." I bite my lip, hesitating.

"Is it hard for you to see them together – Peeta and Katniss, I mean?" I ask quietly. He seems confused by my sudden change in attitude, but he can't deny the sullen quality of the question as he looks at his hands.

"It's easier than I thought it'd be. I guess that year away from here helped," he sighs falling backwards onto the grass. "It just sucks to know that I missed my chance."

"From what the others have told me, I don't think you had a chance at all," I say honestly. He looks at me. "I mean, there are a number of reasons that you two could never have been. For one thing, she didn't even stop to think about loving someone other than her those in her family until she had to pretend to love Peeta for both or their survivals."

He doesn't respond.

"And have you ever stopped to think that maybe she just wanted you in her life and a friend and hunting buddy? You've been so selfish and passive aggressive about your crush on her that-"

"I'm not passive aggressive!" he defends, lifting his head up. I raise an eyebrow.

"Trust me, you're passive aggressive," I say curtly. "Also, even if she did love you and not Peeta, it wouldn't matter because she'd have to stay with him for publicity reasons."

"You've been thinking about this too much," he points out critically.

"You've been thinking about _her_ too much," I retort.

"Fair enough."

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><p><strong>Please review! They get me to write faster! 3<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**A deeper insight into Summer's past and some other stuffs I'm sure that will not only confuse you... but make feel bubbling inside. CAUTION: Angst of all kinds ahead, haha.**

**Also, thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing! I don't know where you people suddenly came from but don't ever go back. Seriously. I will lock you in my closet. Forever. Don't leave me. Ever. -****_-**

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><p>It's settled. After two days of consideration, I've finally made my decision.<p>

It's a Wednesday when I work up the courage to seek out Peeta, after not finding him in his usual spot at the breakfast table this morning. When I ask Katniss as she's walking out the door to hunt, she says that he's working today.

The trek from Victors Village to town seems longer than usual, and I consider more than once turning around and just letting Katniss tell him, but I promised myself I would do this. I need this. And to be honest, _he_ probably needs this. So in my jeans and slightly oversized jacket, I set out to find him.

He's in the bakery, like Katniss said, sitting on a stool at the front counter. It's foggy outside, and the florescent lights from inside shine brightly on the pathway outside. Before opening the door, I take a long pause. My heart is beating really fast, and I remind myself to remain calm. _No matter what he does_, I promise. _I will not lose my temper._

"Hi," I say with as much cheer as I can muster as I push the door open and slide inside. He glances up at me blankly, and then looks back down at the checklist on the counter. "Peeta, we need to talk."

"Can it wait? I'm busy," he replies without looking up. I frown.

"I'm moving to District Two with Gale," I sputter quickly and loudly, making sure that there's no mistake of him hearing me. He looks at me worriedly, and I falter at seeing his face. It's been a long time since he's looked at me with anything but contempt.

"Why?" he whispers, dropping the pen he'd been using. I do a double-take, wondering if he's serious.

"Are you daft?" I nearly shout. "You've treated me like garbage for weeks! Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I don't… I don't want you to leave," he mutters. I bring my hand to my face in frustration.

"Could've fooled me!" I laugh humorlessly.

"But… why Gale? Why can't you go to Eleven or…?" He runs a hand through his hair with what seems like anxiety. "He's not _right_ for you, Summer." Again, it takes me a moment to figure out what he's implying.

"I'm not even friends with him!" I squeak. "And so what if I did decide to be with him? What would you do about it?"

"How're you gonna tell him about your father, hm?" Peeta snaps. I remember my promise not to lose my temper, and even though I hate it whenever Peeta uses my past against me, I force myself to calm down.

"Peeta, we need to talk about this," I sigh, looking at my shoeless feet. He narrows his eyes.

"I don't have time to talk. Maybe later," he says, turning back to his list on the counter. His entire mood has changed about three times in the past five minutes, and I'm sick of it.

"I've been waiting for us to talk for weeks, Peeta Mellark. We need to talk now," I say quietly but firmly. He finally shifts his gaze back to me, and I swallow hard.

"Go ahead, and say it," I demand softly. "Let it out, and be done with it."

"Say what?" he asks, standing straighter. My eyes squeeze shut involuntarily.

"Say how angry you are. At me, at my father, at the world. You need to say it, and let it go. Because until you do, we're _both_ stuck like this," I answer so quickly, I have to catch my breath. "So just… say it." He stares at me for awhile before walking out from behind the counter.

"You let me scream at you for weeks in a cell that _your father put me in,_" he starts, his voice cracking. "You treated me like an old friend. No explanations. You listened to me yell at the top of my lungs about how Katniss was a muttation. You became my friend. You saved my life. You saved everyone's lives. _Why_?"

"My father needed to be stopped," I say simply, holding back tears as I look at the wall behind Peeta. "And you needed a friend."

"No one really needs _me_," he mutters. I furrow my eyebrows.

"I do," I say. "I need you." The words come out without my permission, and I can feel the uncomfortable silence in my clenched fists.

"How do you live with yourself?" he whispers. My eyes dart to his, feeling a spark of anger. But I see the sincere look in his face, the legitimate curiosity, and the anger dies down.

"One step at a time," is my short but honest answer.

"Did a muttation really give you that scar?" he asks, gesturing towards my face. I look down.

"No."

"Who _did_ give it to you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" he demands. I think about closing my eyes, but I can't. My eyes are glued to the floor.

"It was fairly dark, and I was young. It could've been me, but it might've been my mother." I'm muttering, but he hears me and gives me a look that tells me that he has no idea what I'm going on about.

"Can we talk in the back? I don't think this is something either of us would want interrupted," I say, glancing behind me, out the window. The fog has gotten worse, and I have the feeling it's going to rain.

"Won't sell anything on a day like this anyway," he figures, pulling a chain hanging beside him. The lights flicker off, and I follow Peeta and the light from the kitchen into a small area with two wooden chairs, probably for when he and Katniss lounge around on some days. I sit beside him in one of the uncomfortable chairs, my shoulders slumped.

"Explain," he says quietly. I swallow the lump in my throat with pain.

"When I… turned six, my mother start acting… differently," I start shakily. "She locked herself in her own quarters until dinner. She wouldn't see anyone at all until then, not even… my father. She stopped playing with me, stopped singing the lullaby she'd sing to me every night before I fell asleep. At the time, I didn't really think much into it. But later…" I pause, sniffling slightly.

"Exactly twenty-four days after I turned six, my father was attending the Victory Tour for that year in the Capitol, like he does every year, watching from the sidelines. Mother and I were waiting in the dining room. She was dressed up for some reason, in a long, black, dress.

"At first… she was just mumbling while she fiddled with the silverware. I remember realizing that she was singing my lullaby. But then she got _really angry_. And she started telling me how worthless I was. How my father gave me too much attention… how she should get that attention.

"I was upset, to say the least. My mother was angry at me. It's instinct to cry. I looked down for moment – I swear, it wasn't longer than a _second_ – and she's in front of me… Pointing a knife at me.

"She was screaming at me, and I honestly can't remember most of what she said but… She was pressing the tip of knife at my forehead and I – I panicked. I grabbed her wrist and tried to get her away from me. Then she started grabbing my arms and tried to hold me down, but I was twisting and fighting back… and then the next thing I knew, I had blood dripping down my face. I'm still not sure who gave it to me," I finish, wiping the tears from my jaw.

There's a long, uncomfortable pause. I want to look at Peeta, but I don't. He knows more than anyone else now. I'm startled significantly when I feel his arms wrap around me.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, rubbing my back. I'm frowning at my own story, but the tears have stopped.

"We heard my father talking to people outside the door and she… my mother, she..." I stutter.

"Shh, it's okay," he says softly. I hadn't realized how much I missed Peeta until now. The shoulder my head is propped on as he embraces smells like bread. I hadn't really paid much attention to his scent before. I guess in the Capitol, he just smelled like… blood.

"She panicked… She… she stuck the knife in her stomach," I finally sob. Peeta stiffens noticeably, but doesn't let go. "And I… I tried to make her better- I pulled the knife out… Peeta, there was so much blood."

"Summer, calm down. Let's get you home," he says, moving to help me up. I take his hand, but I can't stop talking.

"My dad walked in and saw me with blood all of my face, standing over her with an equally bloody knife…" I continue. It's word vomit, really. I've been rehearsing this story since I was nine, but I can hardly remember what I'd planned to say as Peeta helps me out of the bakery. "He didn't even care about me, Peeta! He only cared about the woman who tried to kill me!"

"Summer, you need to relax," Peeta tries, keeping me steady as we step into the rain outside. It's not raining hard, but it's humid enough to make up for it. There are black spots in my vision, and there's something clawing at my face.

"I'm the mutt, Peeta! I'm the demon! I killed my mother… It's my fault she's dead… I stabbed my mother…"

"Haymitch!" I hear Peeta shout. "Haymitch, it's Summer! She's having an attack!"

"Peeta, there's so much blood," I say, looking around wildly. I'm clutching his arm. I know that my mother's been dead for years, but there's no denying the realism of the scene around me.

"What'd you do to her?" I hear someone shout. I look down dizzily to see my father kneeling beside my mother.

"I… killed her," I whisper blankly. Something is still scratching my face, but I can feel myself being lifted into the air and by a faceless security officer like a ragdoll.

"Peeta!" I scream. I know what's happening now. I know how this nightmare ends. But maybe Peeta can save me this time. "Peeta, don't let them do this to me!"

"Go get Aurelius on the phone," I can hear Haymitch shout. It hurts my ears. He seems too close to me. Then I realize that I can't see Haymitch.

"No, I'm staying with her," Peeta replies with a frantic tone. "You go call him."

"This is no time to have an ego, boy. Go," Haymitch orders.

"No, Peeta, you can't leave me!" I scream, throwing my arms out in front of me wildly. I'm bouncing on the shoulder of the guard as he runs down the hallways of my former home. "Please, they're gonna hurt me again! Peeta!"

"I'm staying with her," Peeta says firmly. There's a sigh before I'm shifted from the guard's back to Peeta's arms.

"Peeta, I didn't mean to kill her! You have to tell them it was an accident!"

"Summer, listen to me. You need to wake up. You're in District Twelve now," I hear him say.

My vision is gone now. I can't see him, or my childhood home, or any guards, or my parents. I'm dreaming; I must be. Peeta Mellark died in the Quarter Quell, didn't he? He touched the force field. Who am I being carried by? It must be another guard. No… I smell roses. It's my father. He's not angry, or fearful, or cruel. He's the man who wanted to fix his daughter. The man who thought she was ill. The memories rush back all at once, and I can feel myself slipping out of consciousness as Peeta's voice returns and my father's leaves.

"Come on, I came back for you all those times. I need you to come back for me now. Please, Summer. You don't get to do this to me. Not now."

"I have to leave," I mumble. My lips feel numb, and Peeta's voice is echoing in my ears.

"Summer!" he yells angrily. He's running again, I can tell. But I don't know where we're running to. It's just black. I'm just…

It's nothing.

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><p><strong>Love the reviews, keep 'em coming! Also, let me know what you thought of the THG movie if you've already seen it! Favorite part? Favorite symbolic scene?<strong>

**Review quickly and I might give you guys a bonus chapter with the President himself. DUN DUN DUUNNNN. 3**


	20. Chapter 20

**First off, allow me to apologize for any inaccuracies. I tried my best, but I haven't had time to do a thorough edit of this chapter so... Good luck!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! 3**

**And now, the moment we've all been waiting for PEETA AND SUMMER GET MARRIED! No, I'm just kidding. This isn't that kind of fic... KATNISS AND SUMMER ARE GETTING MARRIED! Haha, no seriously. This is more intense than that. Haha. Let me know what you think of the chapter in a review!**

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><p><em>This is the moment<em>, I think. _He's finally decided to stop wasting his effort on me. I'm finally going to die._

I'm led by several heavily armored Peacekeepers into the area I faintly remember my father's official office being in. For reasons unbeknownst to me, my heart is suddenly in my stomach, and I feel like throwing up. My heart is racing. I don't understand why. I knew this would happen eventually. No day but today, right?

The doors open, and I'm forced to walk into the large, luxurious, study by the Peacekeepers surrounding me. I notice them leaving in a hurried manner as soon as I'm in the room. The large mahogany doors behind me slam shut.

_It's dramatic_, I think. _But it's dramatic enough to be my father._

My eyes search the room before I spot him by the window. I clear my throat pointedly, and he turns at the sound. I want to cry at how broken and old he looks. He studies me for a moment, and I wonder if _he's_ going to cry.

_No_, I think suddenly. _He doesn't get to cry. What has happened to him that could justify his tears in front of the daughter he tortured at such a young age? Nothing. Not even his precious roses go dying on him._

"I don't smell roses." The words are out of my mouth before I realize that I'm walking towards him slowly.

"There's no use for them anymore. The people already know about the poison. Besides, the rebels are only a few miles away now, and this is will all end soon," he replies distantly. I want to be angry, but I'm not. This is the first time I've had the opportunity to speak to him in years. I should be kicking and screaming and my face should be red. But instead, I just feel blank. I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Why am I here?" I ask, looking out the window. It's a perfect view of the Capitol, and it gives me a sick pleasure to see several burning building and streets a few blocks away.

"Your mother's journal was found," he answers quietly. My eyes dart to him. "It was in the greenhouse." I want to say something, ask him what it said, but my lips won't move. And it seems like his won't either, because we're both perfectly silent for several minutes before I can't hold my breath any longer.

"So just how insane was she?" I choke out. I can feel my face burning with anger, my palms sweaty with slight agitation.

I've been waiting for this moment, haven't I? I've been waiting for him to tell me I was never evil or possessed or broken. I've been waiting to hear him beg for my forgiveness. Forgiveness I would eventually give him; he is my father, after all. But I don't feel redemption or forgiving. Instead, there's just frustration.

"She was pregnant," he says coldly, not answering the question asked aloud, but instead answering a millions questions that no longer need to be asked. I bang my fist against the window, knowing that no human force could even crack the glass.

"She wrote that she'd been secretly seeing a doctor about her Schizophrenia but had to stop taking her medicine when she realized she was pregnant," he explains.

"Did you know… that she was pregnant?" I ask, looking at my hands. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him nodding.

"She'd told me the night before. We were going to make the announcement after dinner the night that yo- the night she killed _herself_," he corrects himself with noticeable pain in his voice. My entire essence relaxes slightly at hearing him admit the truth, if only to me. But hearing these words also reminds me of the things they've both done to me, and I go from numb to angry.

"Why am I here?" I spit, glaring at him. "Am I here because you want forgiveness? You won't get it. You want to explain your actions? I don't want to hear it. You chose your _crazy wife_ over your six year-old _daughter_."

"What was I supposed to do?" he shouts, causing me to flinch.

"Listen to my side of the story! You didn't even think before you called the guards on me!" I yell back with a red face.

"You think I wanted to believe that you stabbed my wife? Or even now, that I want to believe she stabbed _herself_?"

"It doesn't matter what you want!" I scream angrily. "You of all people should've searched for the truth! You spew all this crap about lying to people, but for nine years, you've been pretending that your daughter was dead for the whole country! You even went so far as to take your vengeance out on the Districts. I didn't have to kill my mother because whatever sickness she had was killing her by itself!"

"Don't pretend that you knew what was happening to her!" he shouts. This time, I don't flinch.

"Don't _you_ pretend like you _didn't_!" is my loud reply. "She'd been planning that stunt with the knife for months, hadn't she? Is that what her _precious_ journal says? Tell me, please. How badly did she want to kill me?"

"I don't want to fight with you, Summer," he sighs. I freeze, startled by his sudden coolness.

"Of course not," I say. "You want to have someone else take responsibility for the damage done to my mind, right?"

"I was trying fix you," he explains urgently, leaning forward. I jump back a little.

"There was nothing wrong with me!" I yell at the top of my lungs, hysteria creeping into my voice. "I am sick of feeling _wrong_, and _bad_, and _evil_. You never treated Liala like this!"

"And look where she is now!" he almost yells. I bring a hand to my forehead, suddenly feeling nauseous.

"Did she kill Liala?" I whisper brokenly. He doesn't respond, simply looking across the room at his desk. Taking that as a yes, I bite my lip. _I won't cry. I won't cry. I won't cry._

Silence.

"So what now?" I ask sourly.

"Now," he replies evenly, "we wait."

But that's not good enough.

"No," I state decisively, looking at him hard eyes. "No. You are not going to fight this anymore. I will not let you hurt anyone else."

"So then you have a suggestion?" he guesses with a raised eyebrow.

"I have an _order_," I confirm without pause. "Surrender."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will never forgive you for what you did to Peeta," I whisper sharply. "Forget about me, you've ruined his life. And why else would you have brought me up here, than to beg for my forgiveness? So, now you know. Give this up, or I will hate you forever."

"You mean you don't already hate me?" he asks, with a ghost of a smile. My eyes roll upward in frustration.

"You're my father. I'm supposed to love you unconditionally, right?" I ask. I don't expect an answer, and I don't wait for one. "Forgiveness is different. End this, or you will never earn mine."

My father opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, multiple Peacekeepers march into the room. Both of us turn to them, waiting for an explanation.

"Sir, they're just outside," one of them says. I look at my father. His expression is unreadable.

"You two," he says with authority, pointing at two of the guards, "take my daughter down to the prison, and hide her. Somewhere that she'll be found by the _right_ sort of people." My eyes widen. _Is this really happening again? After all this? He's going to throw me back in there like nothing's wrong?_

"What's going on?" I ask, stepping away from the approaching guards.

"Don't let anything distract you. Ignore all orders until she's hidden. No exceptions," my father orders, ignoring me. I find myself stepping away from them all until my back is at the window.

I turn to see an enormous crowd of Capitol citizens, shuffling through the snow. It's utter chaos outside, and I wonder how I didn't notice it before. Explosions go off in the distance, destroying buildings left and right. People fire their guns from the rooftops. Peacekeepers hurriedly try to guide the citizens towards the mansion. Above all of this, I see several hovercrafts, waiting patiently in the air, probably carrying several more troops of Rebels or Peacekeepers.

The City Circle, just below the window I look out of now, is filled with screaming citizens. I'm confused, wondering why this is a place they'd think to take refuge.

"What's going on?" I repeat hysterically. I see the hundreds and thousands of children inside the barricade of the mansion. There's another explosion, breaking down a mile of the barrier. I glance at the hovercraft to see little silver parachutes, like the ones a sponsor would send a Tribute, fall to the ground where the children are.

Before I can take in any more of the scene, I'm pulled away by the two guards ordered to hide me.

"What's going on?" I scream for the third time, looking at my father desperately.

"It would seem that the rebels have even less respect for life than I do," he tells me. My eyebrows furrow, and I try to look back outside, but the Peacekeepers are pulling me out of the room. I choke on my saliva and lose my voice, but I'm somehow able to shake the guards off before running back to the window just in time to see a dozen small bombs go off, killing half of the children below, and wounding the others. The snow is bloody, and I can make out the distorted faces of dead children.

I watch desperately as medics come to the children's aid, though I'm unsure if they're rebels or Peacekeepers. Again, I'm pulled away from the window, but this time it's my father who is grabbing my shoulder.

"Summer, you need to go," he whispers gently. His voice isn't cold anymore. He isn't talking to me as the President. Or the man who locked me away for years. This is my father. My shoulders slump dejectedly before I wrap my arms around his torso in a hug, surprising us both.

"I don't want to go," I reply quietly, tears leaving my eyes and dripping onto his suit. I let go and look into his green, narrow, eyes. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. I understand it. "Me too."

This happens within no more than twenty seconds, and I'm immediately pulled out of the room for real this time. I don't fight. I just stare at the regal carpeting below my feet. I can still hear the screams of agony outside the building as I'm led towards an elevator.

The last thing I hear is the sound of what sounds like a hundred silver parachutes exploding.

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><p><strong>Welp. Who can guess what that last explosion was? LOL. Also, who else noticed a little something I put in there (it has to do with a person of the female variety)? Or was it too over your heads? Haha.<strong>

**Please review! And happy Easter! (even though it's technically Holy Saturday and it's not that happy... awkward.)**


	21. Chapter 21

"Shouldn't you be running more tests? How can you tell she's alright?"

"I can't, Mr. Mellark. You're not a doctor, so you probably don't know this, but it's hard to check a person's vitals when they've been overly sedated."

"I told Haymitch not to go near the meds, but he wouldn't listen."

"None of you folks listen…"

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice speaking to Peeta, my eyes flicker open as I suddenly lift my head off the pillow. It's a terrible move, because my head feels heavier than ever.

"Whoa," I mutter under my breath as my head slams back down onto my pillow. The word was quiet, but enough to have caught the attention of Peeta and the man to whom I assume the unfamiliar voice belongs.

"Summer!" Peeta says, rushing over to me from across my bedroom, and I think he might fall on his face, the way he's scrambling. I distantly wonder how he carried me up the flight of stairs by himself, but I don't worry about it.

Admittedly, there's also a moment of confusion when I notice the worry and relief in his voice and eyes, rather than the recent stream of insults and glares. I remember within a second the hug he'd given to me while I told him that I murdered my mother.

"Wh-what happened? Who is that?" I ask, looking around dizzily.

"Uh- Right," Peeta stutters, looking back at the man. "Summer, this is Doctor Aurelius. He studied different methods of treatment for tracker-jacker poisoning back in Thirteen."

"Pleasure," I murmur. After a moment, I realize the word probably sounded sarcastic, and I feel bad so I flash a small smile at the both of them.

As Dr. Aurelius checks my pupils and my heartbeat, I decide to take advantage of Peeta's no longer angry attitude and start humming a cheery song that I make up as I go along. Peeta's frowning at me in confusion, but I try my best to brush it off.

"Where's Katniss?" I ask, trying to keep still while Dr. Aurelius places his hand on my forehead expertly.

"She's downstairs with Gale," he responds with a tone of distaste in his voice. _At least it's not towards me for once_, I figure.

I want to ask how long I'd been asleep (though it was apparently long enough for Aurelius to get on a train to District 12, aka middle of nowhere), but I'm distracted by the different questions I'm being asked by both of them like what my diet is like, if this happened before, why I'd think moving to Two with Gale is a good idea (that one's Peeta's, obviously), etc. But I make a notable observation that Dr. Aurelius doesn't ask me how I came to have tracker-jacker poison in my blood.

"Well," he says after filling out a chart on his clipboard, "you seem to be fine now, but I'll have to run a few more tests to be sure." He glances at Peeta, to which he responds with a disappointed nod.

"Great, I'm ready when you are," I reply with a smile, choosing to ignore their suspicious glances.

"Unfortunately," Dr. Aurelius says gently, "these tests require equipment that can only be found in the Capitol. I'd need you to come back to the hospital there for two weeks at the most before…" He continues talking, but I stop paying attention and look at Peeta. His face is calm but unmoving, and I can tell that he's trying to pretend to be interested in what the doctor is saying, nodding during intervals.

"Wha- But I'm not – I _can't_ go to the Capitol!" I interrupt when I realize that Peeta isn't going to fight this. I can't go back to the Capitol… Never again. Too many memories. Too much pain. Not enough regret.

_Knife. Screaming. Pain. Roses. Pictures. Peeta._

Dr. Aurelius sighs. "Well, you don't appear to be in any danger of seriously harming yourself or others, so I can't force you to come with me. But if things get worse or attacks become more frequent, give me a call," he tells me, giving a nod to Peeta. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I whisper gratefully. I wonder if he was telling the truth or he made it up when he saw my reaction. Either way, I find myself grinning at the ceiling in bliss.

"There are some medications I'm going to prescribe to you, though," he says pointedly as he looks up at me from behind his thin glasses. I speculate if they actually help him or he just wants to look smart. "And I hope there won't be any fuss. Your neighbors don't seem to be following my instructions as far as taking it regularly and getting rest."

"Of course not," I assure him with a polite smile. "I respect a doctor's judgment." With another sharp look at Peeta, Dr. Aurelius shakes my hand and gives me a piece of paper with instructions before leaving the room quietly.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I turn to Peeta, "So I guess we're friends again, right?" Surprisingly, he laughs. Wow, didn't expect _that_ response.

"I'm jerk, aren't I?" he says through his laughter. I smile at him, happy to be back in his good graces.

"You've done worse," I shrug casually, though it's probably a lie.

"I don't think almost kissing you is worse than this," he chuckles. I cock an eyebrow at him.

"_Almost_? Peeta, you nearly swallowed my face!" I giggle with a slow blush creeping onto my face. I try to wipe it off, but of course that doesn't work.

"I did not!" he protests, sitting with a bounce on the bed beside me. "You wanted it," he smirks.

"Right," I reply sarcastically, "that's why I punched you." I look down at my lap with a fond smile at the memory.

So much had changed since then. I'd found peace in my relationship with my father, moved to District 12, run further than eight feet at a time, wore a pretty dress, was reunited with an old friend, and punched two different boys within an hour. And Peeta… He'd changed even more. He loved Katniss again, he wasn't bloodier every time I saw him, he didn't scream bloody murder every time I saw him, and he was finally my friend again.

I find myself smiling even wider as I look up only to find Peeta face leaning towards mine. My smile fades immediately into a scowl, and I just barely resist the urge to punch him again.

"Peeta," I hiss, pushing his chest back roughly. "Are you kidding me? Did we not just recall the time I _punched_ you for that?"

His face isn't sad, though, nor is it shocked or disappointed. It actually looks pretty elated.

"Do I need to bring Doctor Aurelius back in here? Have you officially lost it?" I whisper, almost hysterically. We were so close to being normal again. Now he's ruined it.

"I just needed to make sure you would stop me," he smiles, patting my shoulder awkwardly. I bury my face in my hands with frustration and relief.

"One of these days, Mellark," I vow, "I'm going to make you _suffer_ for that."

He's laughing again.

"I can't believe you're actually leaving," Katniss says blankly as she watches me brush my teeth from the bathroom door. I spit in the sink before replying.

"I need to see the world," I explain, popping the brush back in my mouth.

"But you and Peeta are friends again, right?" she asks. I nod, my mouth already full of toothpaste foam again. "Then why are you leaving? You told me it was a bluff!"

"I'm a compulsive liar," I fib with a shrug after I spit again. I'm rinsing my mouth with water when Katniss continues.

"But if you leave, it'll be so boring!" she whines uncharacteristically. "And Peeta will mope for days. And Haymitch will stop bathing!"

I laugh. "Katniss, I'm not leaving today! Gale said that we'll be leaving Saturday at the _earliest_. And who knows, maybe Haymitch will just fall into the habit of bathing without my company."

"What about me?"

It's a quiet question, but it seems to echo in the room. _Damn acoustics._

"I can't tell you that," I sigh honestly, turning to face her. "You've been told how to live for too long. You've slipped into trying to fit the bill without even noticing. Just try living for awhile, okay?"

"It's gonna be lonely."

"You think I'm abandoning you, but I'm not," I assure her quietly, wiping my mouth off on a towel. As I slip past her and into my bedroom, I add with a smile, "I'm abandoning Buttercup." A hiss from the fur-ball himself (who's sprawled out on my pillow) makes me laugh.

"Even the demon cat wants you to stay," she points out, sitting beside me on the bed.

"Katniss, I could sit here and tell you to run to Peeta and marry him because he loves you, but I won't," I tell her with a sigh. "Independence is a good thing sometimes. You need to figure out what _you_ want."

There's a moment of stillness.

"I want my sister back," she admits softly. I rub her arm comfortingly.

"Closure," I say, recalling the conversation I'd had with Peeta all those weeks ago. "I'm not telling you to forget her. That wouldn't be right. But it doesn't have to be the only thing you ever think about."

"Now that she's gone…" She shakes her head sadly. "Nobody really needs me."

"I can name three people right off the top of my head who need you," I declare, earning a doubtful look from Katniss. "Peeta, Gale, and Haymitch. Told you."

"I'm not talking about people who'd be sad if I _died_," she clarifies with an air of spite. "I'm talking about people who need me around on a daily basis. Before you got here, weeks would go by when I wouldn't see anyone but Greasy Sae. Then you show up, and suddenly everyone is bathing regularly, and leaving their houses, and taking their pills, and laughing. I used to be able to do that for Prim."

"I see," I nod softly. Then I have an idea. "Can I go hunting with you?"

"What?" she exclaims, shocked, but whether it's from the sudden subject change or my actual question I'm not sure. I smile and bob my head excitedly. Behind her, I see Peeta walk into the hallway with half a grin. Whoa, wait. Is he staying here tonight?

"Did I hear something about hunting?" he asks cheerfully, beginning to come into the room. In response to his question, I grab a pillow that Buttercup has already clawed through and throw it at him. It's a forceful throw, but it only hits him in the leg, rather than the aimed at face.

"Not you, lover boy!" I shout as Peeta feigns cowardice. I see Katniss flinch out of the corner of my eye, but I pretend not to notice as I turn to her.

"So it's settled then. You and I will go hunting tomorrow. Ooh, I'm so excited!" I say, clapping my hands together. She nods with a still dazed look on her face, but she rises and trudges to her room with Peeta following not far behind, a wide grin still on his face.

I get more sleep than they do.


	22. Chapter 22

**A lot of you guys have been asking for how long I'll continue this story and I urge you not to worry; I have an outline for the rest of the story, which ended up being a _lot_ longer than I'd originally planned. But either way, it will end, and it will probably end happily, and I'll probably kill Peeta off... Kidding.  
>Maybe.<strong>

**Also, since she deserves it, thank you, It may or may not be Shauna, for all your reviews. I've missed you so much these past few month. -_- Seriously, come back to Twitter.**

**One last thing, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I've reached over 100 reviews and I'm so grateful for each and every one of them! Even that one from Carlie that was completely pointless and lame. =)**

**Read on!**

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><p>The next morning, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with a depressingly pale faced Gale. The orange juice I'm drinking has way too much pulp, and my pancake is burnt on both sides.<p>

I'm wearing the most "outdoorsy" clothes I could find, but it turns out to be a harder task to find them than I'd thought. Eventually, though, I find a formfitting light green t-shirt and a pair of light blue jean shorts. I decide not to go barefoot today, as I remember there being lots of pointy twigs on the ground last time I'd gone out there with Peeta. So instead, I'm wearing a pair of sneakers that I'd borrowed from Katniss a few weeks ago.

I took advantage of the fact that Peeta and I were friends again by asking him every possible question about Gale, trying to figure out who he was when he wasn't using shock torture on younger girls. Peeta couldn't tell me much though, just that he and Katniss were friends before the Games, and that he apparently had what Peeta referred to as a "creepy beyond belief, stalker-ish, crush on Katniss," but that was probably an exaggeration. I asked if he'd been fighting for the Rebellion.

_"Yeah," Peeta had said, "he hates the Capitol even more than the rest of us."_

_"So what made Gale leave here?" I asked, though I knew part of the answer. Peeta froze, and my information was confirmed._

_"There was um… speculation that he had helped design the bomb that killed… Prim. I think he left because he felt too guilty to face Katniss," he said with uncertainty. "I know I would've been." I nodded slowly. Yep, that's basically what Katniss had told me about Gale._

_"Why did he come back then? Do you think he still loves her?"_

_"I don't know, Summer," he snapped suddenly, not even making me jump. I knew this was a touchy subject; I was headed into uncharted territory._

_"Well, maybe you should find out," I'd suggested quietly. He gave me a look to ask if I'm crazy. "I don't mean in a guy-to-guy bonding kind of way! I mean in a boyfriend-to-former-best-friend face-off kind of way." He seemed to think about it for a moment._

_"No way," he decided. "Have you seen that guy's hands? I can't be alone with him. He'll crush my skull!"_

_I giggled. "You're such a child."_

It then occurs to me that Gale is just in the room next door to me, meaning that he's still within earshot of Katniss's room too. I giggle out loud.

"How'd you sleep last night?" I ask, taking a bite out of the burnt pancake. Gale glares at me.

"I didn't," he states. I laugh at his agony.

"Oh, get over it," I tease. "I just hope that Katniss still has the energy to take me hunting." Gale groans into his arm as his head hits the table, resulting in another laugh from me before Katniss and Peeta walk into the room. I laugh louder at the situation.

They look normal as ever, except Katniss blushes up a storm when she notices Gale with his head down. My laughter is beyond obnoxious right now, and I'm sure that Gale wants to murder me.

But then he starts laughing too.

His laugh isn't nearly as hysterical as mine, but it's a laugh. Peeta is blushing now, but he's chuckling a little bit as well. Katniss, though, just seems _really_ embarrassed and flustered... and angry.

"I liked it better when you slept all day," she mutters, grabbing my arm and pulling me outside. I can tell that immediately after we leave the kitchen, Gale and Peeta both stop laughing, but I can't figure out what they're doing. I skip alongside Katniss's quiet steps, grinning idiotically at her until she glares at me.

"I don't know how you manage to be so childish," she says blankly. I smirk.

"Well, for one thing, I _am_ a child. Sixteen years-old is hardly adulthood," I reply. "In the Capitol, I wouldn't even be old enough to _look _at half the stuff Haymitch drinks."

"Well, here we all had to grow up pretty fast," she tells me pointedly, and the venom behind the words don't go unnoticed.

I can't blame her for her obvious anger towards the Capitol and its people. And while I don't necessarily consider myself to be one of them, I still had a pretty easy life when you don't count the family issues. It still hurts, though, that she's so quick to judge the people in the Capitol. They still grew up way too quickly, just not in the same way. One girl that I'd known when I was five already had her eyes chemically dyed purple by the age of four. Another girl had different eyebrow patterns every week.

Luckily, the one thing my parents and I had always agreed upon was that I did not need to be physically altered to impress people. So even after my mother was long gone, and I was out of "treatment (as I'd grown accustomed to calling it)," I still refused to dye my skin, or my eyes, or my eyes, or my hair, or other various body parts. I later learned that one of the girls (the one who dyed her eyes) I'd been so close to before "the incident," had died of blood poisoning when she was ten. The other girl was fine, if you count being a mother at the age of fourteen as fine – in the Capitol, it wasn't really a shock, but I'm sure her family wasn't happy about it.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I agree anyway, remembering my purpose for being here. "So what're we hunting today? A mountain lion? A tiger? A _bear_?"

"Your knowledge of the outdoors is astounding," Katniss remarks sarcastically. I smile.

"I try to keep an open mind," is my cheerful response.

The rest of our journey through Twelve is filled with the sound of my voice blabbing on about how nice everyone in the Districts are. Now, I may not have the best history with people in general, but I think that the people from Twelve are just morally better than those in the Capitol. That's not to say that people from there aren't good people. They just don't get the bigger picture.

We trek through the woods, further than when Peeta and I had gone to find that lake. I'm still a bit apprehensive of the woods, but I'm not about to pass out just yet. It's significantly warmer outside this morning than it has been in the days that have recently gone by.

I find myself edging closer to Katniss has we go deeper into the forest, in the opposite direction of the lake where things were so perfect. I feel like I shouldn't be here. This isn't my territory. This is Katniss's place. This is Gale's place. Not mine. My place is in a prison cell.

Behind me, I hear a sharp caw. I jump in fear, and quickly turn around, my eyes darting every which way.

"You alright?" Katniss asks. I nod briefly, but my body is still paralyzed with fear. Maybe this was a mistake. I'm not cut out for this. It's too dark. Too warm. Too open. Too unknown.

I follow Katniss anyway, trying to pretend like I'm not carefully planning each footstep so that I'm not further than two feet away from her. She must notice this anyway, because she glances over at me with a half-annoyed, half-worried expression.

"I once tried to bring Prim out here," she says suddenly, as if she blurted it out by mistake. "She didn't make it very far. Not because she was scared though. It was because she wanted to see everything. The grass, the dirt, the trees. Even the bugs. And she thinks bugs are gross."

There's a pause as we both think about what she's said.

"Thought," she corrects herself quickly as if she'd be scolded for her slight mistake. "She… thought bugs were gross."

"My sister Liala is dead too," I say with no further explanation. She looks at me for a moment before looking ahead, and I realize that we've started walking again.

"I'm sorry."

"No, Katniss," I oppose, almost angrily. "I'm sorry. You've seen more death than I have… and what do you have to show for it? I mean, you deserve a million freaking medals for what you've done. Nobody in Panem gets it. Not even Peeta really gets it. I know I sure as hell don't. If I were you, I'd kill myself. I'd kill myself over and over, every day of my life. I would wake up in the morning with the goal to kill myself that day."

"Are you always moody this early in the day?" Katniss asks with a ghost of a smile on her face, seemingly unperturbed by my sudden outburst.

"My pancakes were burnt," is my reply as if that answers everything. We don't talk for awhile; I'm trying to figure out what I meant to accomplish with Katniss by saying what I said. I come up with nothing besides my own selfish desire for attention.

For a few hours, the sun is high in the sky, and we don't see any sign of animal life until we come across a large rabbit, standing on its hind legs, mid-hop. Katniss raises her bow to shoot at it when I process the situation.

"KATNISS NO, YOU CAN'T SHOOT THE BUNNY!" I scream unnecessarily loud as I start swinging my arms around to scare the rabbit away. Dropping her bow and arrow in defeat, Katniss turns around and kicks a tree, emotionless. I've probably scared off every animal within a mile, and I'm sure Katniss knows this.

"I'm sorry," I apologize sheepishly. Katniss nods her head distantly.

"That's fine. I doubt you scared all of them. There's probably a bigger group of them a while on," she says. I bite my lip.

'Unfortunately,' my deliberately loud stomping manages to scare away all the rabbits from the surrounding area. However, Katniss manages to spot a large squirrel up in a tree. She raises her bow, but when she sees the panicked look on my face, she lowers it.

"Are you going to do this all day?" she groans miserably. I shrug.

"Are you going to point your arrows at every innocent and furry creature we encounter?" I ask awkwardly.

"Okay, listen," she says. "How about you go look for some strawberries over there?"

"But strawberries aren't even in season yet-"

"Better go before I shoot this squirrel," she threatens, raising her bow towards the squirrel again. Putting my hands up in surrender, I begin dragging my feet east of where we had come from.

I'm not sure of where I'm going, this is clear the moment I realize that I've wandered into the clearing with the pond that Peeta and I went to all those weeks ago. I debate for a moment whether I should head back in Katniss's general direction or go for a swim. But instead, I find a small shrub with – to my surprise – perfectly ripened strawberries. I suppose that their harvest season has started early on account of the weather. Rather than finding something to carry the berries in like an average human being, I decide to give Katniss more well-deserved alone time, and eat a dozen of the strawberries instead.

I stand up – several minutes later – when I'm ready to go find Katniss. I brush off some strands of grass off my pants before turning around, only to see my mother in the same revealing getup that she always wore when I was a child.

"I thought I was done with the hallucinations," is my sound reaction.

"Darling, we've been over this," her chiming voice replies. "I'm never going to go away. And you know that cutting your hair won't change that."

"It certainly helps," I mutter before raising my voice. "Not that it matters because you're not real, but you look like a trash bag threw up on you."

"Watch your tongue, young lady," she chastises me. I roll my eyes in response.

"You do know you're dead, right?" I snap in frustration.

"If I'm dead, then how can we be having this conversation?" my "mother" asks. The only thing more annoying than the fact that she was "here," was the fact that she was using the same patronizing tone she'd use when I got paint on my face as a child – all the more evidence that this was _not_ real. I respond though, like I do every time she appears. I have a strange fear that if I don't talk to her, she won't ever go away.

"We're having this conversation because I'm… still emotionally attached to you or something. I think I read about it in a book once," I say, though it's only partially true. I have read books about hallucinations. My reasoning was not a listed cause of them.

"No, Summer," she objects. "It's because you're just like me. Crazy. And we're gonna stay like this, you and I, until you finally give in."

"Oh, like you did," I point out with obviously feigned interest. "I guess it's unfortunate that I don't have a daughter's life to ruin then. Or a husband to leave with nothing but an empty heart."

"I did what I did out of selfishness, I'll admit," she growls under her breath as she takes a small step towards me. "You were getting in the way of my perfect life. My perfect family. You… and your _damn lullaby_!"

I don't react to this part of her speech. It's not fresh news. I've heard it a million times. Sometimes I heard it from my mother. But other times it'd be from my father. Before arriving in Twelve, it was from Peeta mostly. It was always the lullaby. It never made sense. The lullaby was just a song that was sung to me every night before bed. There was no significance in the lyrics as far as I'd ever been able to tell. And it wasn't like I couldn't sleep without it. The sleepless nights after my mother died were mostly because I slept in a dirty cell every night.

"You need to leave. Now," I say under my breath, sure that she'll hear me.

Tilting her head at me with a scowl on her face, she takes a step forward. "You ungrateful, _mutt_. After all I've done for you…"

"You've done _nothing_ for me!" I almost scream in fury.

"Why do you think that stupid doctor let you stay here without official supervision? It's because he could see me too. I told him to let you stay," she sneered. "And before then, how do you think those Rebels knew where to find you? Surely you didn't think they were searching down in those cells for _prisoners_, did you?"

"You're lying," I whisper, looking down at my feet.

"And Kendall?" she continues smugly. "I made sure that he was at the festival that night so that you could make a friend. Admit it, dear. I've been making your life better since the day you killed me."

"I didn't kill you!" I yell immediately. "You stabbed yourself! I saw it. Even that diary said…"

"There was never a diary, Summer," she informs me tauntingly. "Your guilty father made it up as an excuse to forgive you before he lost the biggest fight of his life."

"You're lying," I repeat a bit unsurely this time.

"I've never lied to you, honey," she promises, taking a few steps closer to me. My whole body comes to a standstill. "You can trust me."

"But you're dead! I saw you take the knife in your hands and… stab yourself…"

"Is that what you've been telling yourself all this time? Darling, _you_ had the knife. Not me," she says pitifully. I shake my head.

_Knife. Blood. Silence. Father. Screaming. Pain. Dead._

"No, I… You gave me the…" I stutter mindlessly, pointing at scar. She just messing with me, I chant in my head. I know what happened that day. She killed herself. She was crazy. And now she's dead. But she's here. Am I crazy?

She's shaking her head with a solemn expression. "That's not what happened. Honey, you were having a panic attack of some sort. I don't blame you for what you did."

"What's that… in your hand?" I ask nervously, glancing down at her almost clenched hand.

"It's the cure," she says simply, opening her hand. They're berries. Nightlock. I'm suddenly dizzy with the thought of actually eating them. "Just take one. And then we'll be together. You, and me, and your father."

"But I…" I'm speechless at the mention of being with my father. I never had the opportunity to thank him for not destroying the Rebels. I never had the chance to tell him I loved him, despite all he'd done. Mother starts to walk away as she speaks, her curly hair bouncing with each step.

"Now just don't be stupid like you usually are, and come with me. I can show you where there are-"

"NO!" I yell firmly, planting my feet in the ground.

"No?" She stops and looks back at me, her face covered in outrage. "What do you mean 'no?'"

"I'm not a child anymore. And I didn't kill you. And I'm not crazy. And you're not here. And I'm not going to eat nightlock. And you need to leave me alone now."

"How dare you speak to me like this," she spits. Her whole demeanor has changed. "You think you'll survive out there without me? Not a chance."

"I've got friends now," I argue, my voice stronger than before. "They'll help me out. They like me."

"Like you? Why in the world would they like you? You're hideous." She scowls at me with a scrutinizing eye. I flinch as she begins to walk around me, staying at least four feet away from every direction, but other than that, I make no movement.

"They pity you maybe… But like you? Nonsense. No one really likes you, do they? That's why you're in the middle of the forest by your crazy self."

"I'm not crazy," I state plainly. "It's the tracker jacker poison."

"Maybe you should start eating less. I'm sure that you'd get more attention if you were skinnier…" she coos without apology. "Or maybe if you showed a bit more skin."

"I don't care what you think," I say. "I can do without you."

_Do something big_, my mind says. _Make her leave. Get rid of her. Do something._

"Impossible. I know what's best for you-"

"But you won't let me have it," I interrupt sharply. "So, guess what? I'm letting you go. And if somewhere down the line, I realize that I actually need you – doubtful – then it'll be my fault. And you can go on with your pathetic afterlife-ness knowing that at _least you tried_."

_Do something,_ my mind orders sternly. _Do something. Do something. Do anything. Do what you didn't do before. Do something._

"And when that happens, don't come crying to me," she orders with a scowl. She's angry. Angrier than I've ever seen her hallucinations get. For a moment, I worry that I might get scared and back down like I had in the past, but I don't.

Instead, I inhale the largest amount of air possible and scream as loud as I can, shocking both my mother and myself.

"Summer?" I hear Katniss shout from far away a split second later. I grin at my mother, who's swiftly fading back into nothingness. She reaches out to wrap her hand around my throat, but with a second high-pitched scream, she's completely gone, my mind is completely quieted, and I will never hear my mother's voice again.

Good riddance.

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><p><strong>In case you guys didn't catch it, Peeniss totally had sex. That, or they just made out really loudly. I haven't quite decided yet. Whatever you guys think is more characteristically likely...<strong>

**Let me know what you thought of this chapter in a review! 3**

**May the Fourth be with you!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! And sorry it's been taking me so long to update, I've been writing it as I go along now. And now, a message from our sponsors:**

**Dear Anonymous Reviewer who Decided to Call Summer a Mary Sue "for my own good," I'd love it if you grew a pair and talked to me with an identity to which I could reply to. Maybe then I could point out to you some of Summer's flaws. However, this seems unlikely, and I might as well let you know that if that review had been for my own good, it might've made me smile a little bit, rather than make me reanalyze this whole story. In conclusion, Summer _freakin_' Snow is not a Mary Sue, rather Mary Sue is a Summer Snow. Deal with it. Love, Julia. You asshole.**

**Sorry, to the rest of you. I'm just sensitive when it comes to this sort of thing. However, I will not delay your reading experience any longer!**

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><p>When Katniss finds me, she's covered in sweat, and I'm about to pass out from heat exposure. After screaming my lungs out, it occurred to me that not only was it extremely hot out now that the sun was completely up, but also, that I have no sane reason for screaming.<p>

When she asks, I tell her that I saw a snake. I find it to only be half a lie. My mother _was_ a snake if I'd ever seen one. Which, I technically hadn't, not in person.

Katniss looks like she's about to have a meltdown. I probably shouldn't have screamed. I could've just yelled and told her I'd found some strawberries. But who knows if that would've made my mother go away? I still feel guilty though, and after we put a few dozen strawberries in Katniss's bag, I suggest that we head home. She nods with a distant look in her eye, and we begin our trek back to District 12.

I can see that Katniss didn't catch anything. Odd. I've heard stories from Peeta about her being able to shoot squirrels straight through the eye. I almost ask her what happened that's got her so spooked, but refrain from doing so at the last moment.

Upon reaching the edge of the forest, I hear people chattering excitedly. I glance at Katniss and she shoots me a warning look. Who is it?

My question is answered immediately when a dozen people begin crowding around us, asking question after question. Katniss looks almost fear-stricken, but she holds it together better than I'd have previously imagined in a situation like this. I grab her arm and try to push through the bundle of strangely dressed paparazzi, but they move with us.

"Miss Everdeen, what do you think of the recent changes in the Capitol concerning the raised taxes on citizens with higher monthly incomes?" one thin lady in a green suit asks. I smile politely at all of them and pull Katniss further towards Victor's Village, taking a path around the town. No point in dragging these people through there.

"Katniss! Can you confirm that your unfortunate miscarriage occurred _in_ the arena?" a man asks loudly. The question is almost lost in the other jumbled up series of questions. Katniss was never pregnant, though I'd thought as much until Peeta told me otherwise. But now I can see how it was an obvious lie. She doesn't seem like the type who'd have kids at such a young age. But I still see Katniss flinching out of the corner of my eye.

"If you all don't mind, we haven't eaten in a few hours, and we're absolutely starving," I say brightly. Slowly, the group of reporters begins simply following behind us, taking a brief moment to apologize before launching back into their questions.

"Who are you?"

"What's your connection to the Mockingjay?"

"Are you currently staying with the Star-Crossed Lovers in Victor's Village?"

"Katniss, are there any plans for a public wedding in the making?"

I don't answer any of the questions, and neither does Katniss.

We eventually reach our house in the Village, and I shove Katniss's slouching body through the front door before grinning at the cameras one last time as I shut the door behind me.

When I turn around to make a joke about one of the questions they'd asked about her opinion on leather hair extensions, she's already up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. I frown slightly.

"Oh good, you're back," Peeta says as he walks out of the den. "I should probably warn you, there are reporters everywhere."

I grimace at him. "No, really? I hadn't noticed. And Katniss sure didn't either," I reply sarcastically. We both glance towards the stairs before I follow him into the den, tossing my sneakers in random directions.

"You okay? You look like you're gonna hurl," Peeta says.

"Yeah, it's hot outside today. I think dehydration is a side effect of those pills Doctor Aurelius gave me," I lie easily. "But I think you should be worried about Katniss. She seemed a bit off on the way back here."

"I don't blame her with everything that's going," he responds, not looking me in the eye.

"What _is_ going on?" I ask, sitting on the sofa across from the leather recliner that Peeta's sitting in. "Something big happening?"

"Katniss and I have to go back the Capitol for a few days next week. I don't know any details yet," he says, rubbing his forehead. I think about the questions those reporters asked.

"We need to think about how I'm going to fit in with you guys… publicity wise," I say, pulling my feet in towards my body of the sofa. "I know I'm leaving later this week, but I'm here now. Obviously, I can't be the daughter of Coriolanus Snow…"

Peeta sighs. "Childhood friend?" he suggested. I shake my head.

"People will ask if we ever dated," I say blankly, looking up at him. "That leads to people thinking that you still have feelings for me – which gives me way more publicity than I want."

"What about a charity case? Orphaned during the war, Katniss and I took you in," Peeta says.

"What, you mean like your daughter?" I ask humorlessly. "People will want to rush the wedding."

"What makes you think there'll be a wedding?" Peeta asks with a tone of shock. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Trust me," I say blankly, "there will be a wedding."

Shaking his head in confusion, Peeta says, "Traveling with Gale?"

I bite my lip in thought. "And it's not even a complete lie," I figure. "Okay, that works for me, I guess. Do you think Gale will go along with it?"

"Doubt it," he replies bluntly. "He's not really into impressing the Capitol with his _grand adventures_."

I don't have a reply.

"I should go check on Katniss, I guess," Peeta says. He leaves the room.

I sit alone on the sofa drinking a glass of water for a while – maybe an hour – before I hear the front door slam. I don't get up to see who it is. My legs are too sore. I can hear loud footsteps – Gale's, I notice – trail through the kitchen until I can see him in the doorway. His face is red and sweaty, like he's been running.

"Something wrong?" I ask cautiously.

He looks surprised to see me, but he doesn't reply. He just stands there frowning at me slightly.

"Your frown lines are really deep, you know that?" I say offhandedly. "You should probably get some facial cream to help smoothen it out."

"I thought you and Katniss went hunting," he says. Breathlessly. I grimace slightly.

"Turns out I'm not cut out for the wilderness… Or the outdoors for that matter," I remark. I don't ask him about why he's so worked up. I don't know why, but I don't. It's not my business. He's not my business. Wait, yes he is. We're friends. But not really. I don't even know him. Why am I leaving Twelve to live with someone I don't know?

"I'll um – I'll see you later," I say awkwardly as I rise and shuffle around him. He says something, but I don't hear him. Upstairs, I can here Peeta saying something to Katniss, but I'm out the door before I can stop to eavesdrop.

The reporters are still outside, but they don't seem very interested in me (why would they be?) and allow me to half-jog my way into town without a disruption. As I pass the closed bakery, I realize that I don't know where I'm going.

I wander around the block a few times before finally asking an older woman for directions. Giving me a wary look, she gave me directions.

I get lost twice more after that, almost instantly forgetting the way as soon as I hear it. The other two people I ask for directions give me odd looks too, and I wonder if they're justified.

It's almost an hour later before I finally figure out where I'm going and get there; a small, wooden house. It's one of the newer houses to be built as can be seen from the clean windows. Other than its cleanliness though, it's just like every other house on the street.

I knock once and wait a few moments before knocking again. Then a third time. A fourth time. It's less than thirty seconds before I'm banging frantically on the door.

"Give me minute, will you?" I hear a shout through the door. "Jeez…"

"I did not travel across town to 'wait a minute,' as it were," I shouted back. There's a cursed reply before Kendall opens the door a few seconds later.

"What're you doing here?" he asks, running a hand through his already scruffy black hair.

"Is this a bad time?" I say, shuffling my feet. "It was kind of an impulsive decision."

"Ah, no. This is um, yeah. No. Perfect time," he stutters, moving out of the way and gesturing me to come in.

"I'm just really stressed right now, and it's only just occurred to me that I'm moving across the country with a boy I don't know," I ramble as I plop onto his sofa. "And what if I don't like it in District Two, ya know? What if I'm absolutely miserable and I make no friends at all?"

"Who's going where with who and when to the what now?" Kendall asks confusedly, grabbing a mug a drinking whatever's in it.

"It's four in the afternoon. Why are you drinking coffee? Did you just wake up?"

"That's not important, Autumn-"

"Are you hungover?" I ask.

"-because you've got a serious problem on your hands. Who's the kid you're traveling with?"

"Gale Hawthorne," I answer. A mouthful of coffee is transferred from Kendall's mouth to his mug in surprise.

"In my completely impartial opinion, I say don't go anywhere with him. Ever," he says with a tight (and somewhat frightening) smile.

"So you know him?" I say with raised eyebrows.

"Everyone knows Gale Hawthorne. No, it's those who know his fist and live to tell the tales that are exceptionally special," Kendall replies.

"And you're one of them, I assume?"

"Naturally."

"And may I so politely ask how you came to receive what I believe was a well-deserved punch in the face?" I say, my Capitol accent creeping in slightly as I speak.

"It was a punch in the stomach actually," he corrects me. "That was the day I learned how _exceptionally_ protective he was of Katniss Everdeen."

"Were you trying to hurt her…?" I ask, suddenly confused. Is this why everyone seems to generally dislike Kendall?

"Oh, god, no," he exclaims, leaning back in his chair. "I was asking her out. She didn't seem to like my persistence."

"Oh no," I say with widening eyes. "You're a creep, aren't you?"

"I'm not a creep," he snaps. "But I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm not a bit of a player."

"Of course _you_ wouldn't," I remark sarcastically.

"You know, it doesn't matter why he's bad news, or why I'm bad news. What matters is that you waited all this time time to tell your best friend that you're leaving."

I laugh. "We're not friends," I say.

"We're kind of friends," he argues. I shake my head.

"No, not really. I don't even know you," I counter. "And as far as I know, you know even less about me."

"Then why did you come to me for advice?" he asks.

"Because I…"

Wait, why did I come here? I could've waited an hour and talked to Peeta. I could've distracted myself with a book. I even could've had a conversation with Gale and gotten to know him better.

"Like I said," I decide, "it was an impulsive decision."

Kendall sighs into his mug. "Have you thought of just getting a job when you move? You know, get enough money to get your own place. I hear Two's a pretty big place. Maybe it's big enough to avoid Hunter Boy forever."

"And then what? I start all over in a new place?" I ask, running a hand through my hair. It's gotten an inch longer. How is that even possible? It's only been a week since I last cut it.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say," Kendall replies.

"I just don't want to make another mistake," I say, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

"My intolerance for Hawthorne aside, I really do think you should go. It could be a nice adventure. And if you don't like it there, you can just come right back here. Well, not right here. This is my house. But you could probably stay somewhere else. Not that you wouldn't be welcome here but-"

"I get it," I interrupt, rubbing my forehead. "It's been nice talking to you, not my friend." I begin standing up to leave when I hear the sound of bare feet slapping against wooden floors. I lower my voice to a whisper, "Is someone else here?"

"Daddy?"

My jaw drops. Kendall rubs his face before calling out, "In here, Ana!"

Behind him, a little girl runs out out of a hallway. Small, maybe four years old. Black hair, like her father's, with eyes almost equally as dark.

She runs towards him with a squeal, jumping into his lap without a care in the world. I smile. "I didn't know you have a daughter," I say softly. Setting his mug on the coffee table, Kendall rubs the sleep out of the girl's eyes.

"This is Anastasia," he introduces her graciously. "Her mom lives a few blocks away. Messy divorce. Managed to get every other week."

"She sounds like a monster," I say frankly. He laughs, and Anastasia laughs with him, though she probably doesn't know why. Smiling softly, I stand up again. "It was nice meeting you, Anastasia. But um, I should probably get going. Half of my household is having an episode."

After putting his daughter down, Kendall hugs me. I return the hug and wave at his daughter before walking as slowly as possible to Victors' Village, steadily recalling the day's events.

When I get home, it feels like the house is empty, and after searching around for awhile, I realize that the house _is_ empty. Returning to the front of the house, I think of my childhood. Something inside me cracks. My knees hit the wooden floor, my upper body following it shortly after.

_I'm not having an attack_, I yell at myself. _The medicine was supposed to fix this. It was supposed to make me better._

My house is empty.

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><p><strong>Whoa, Kendall's a daddy, who saw that one coming? IMPOSSIBLE! It was a decision I made an hour ago. Don't pretend to know me. You don't know what I got!<strong>

**Please review, and let me know what you thought of the chapter.**


	24. Chapter 24

**I apologize for the wait, but here's the new chapter! The next chapter will jump two years into the future, but don't worry, I'll only make you wait a week or so.**

**Hope you like it!**

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><p>It's Saturday morning. I feel odd as I look around my room. There are two bags in my hands, each filled with the clothing I've decided to take with me to Two.<p>

"You ready?" I hear Peeta ask behind me. I turn to see him standing in the doorway to the hall. I glance around the again with a heavy sigh before following him downstairs.

"I'm going to miss this place," I say quietly. "Especially that giant dictionary you always pretend to read," I add with a smile.

Peeta does a double-take. "You mean my _History of Panem_ book?" he asks, with a laugh. "It was one of the ridiculous gifts Katniss and I were sent after the Games. I read it when I need to make a decision."

I gape at him a little and start to protest when he grabs for one of my bags. "Relax," he says. "See? I'm still going to let you carry the heavy one."

When we exit through the front door, I'm reminded that it's six in the morning by the mostly dark sky and thin layer of fog that covers the street.

With a long and somewhat painful yawn (my face is still stiff from sleeping), I walk beside Peeta. Gale left half an hour before us to say goodbye to his family that lives here. Until he'd told me last night, I had no idea that his family was here – which, now that I think about it, was stupid. He grew up here, why wouldn't his family be here too? Come to think of it, I hadn't really thought of his old life at all.

My eyes widen. _I've gotten selfish._

"Are you alright?" Peeta asks.

I smile tightly and reply, "Doesn't matter. I'm about to be out of your hair for good."

"You know I don't think about it that way," he says tersely. "And Katniss doesn't either, for the record."

"You are okay with this, right?" I ask. "Me, moving in with Gale?"

"Of course I'm not okay with it," Peeta replies. I frown. "But maybe it could be good for you. It's not my place to stop you anyway."

"But you don't like Gale," I point out.

"But neither do you," he argues quickly. I laugh. "What changed your mind? Not long ago, you attacked him, and now you're moving in with him."

"Well, it's a big decision, but I talked to Kendall about it-"

"Wait, you mean _Kendall Nordon_?" Peeta interrupts with a squeak. I frown.

"Not you too," I start, stopping in my tracks to turn towards him. "Listen, he's a good guy. I helped him out during the war too. Granted it was a long time before I met you, but he was a good friend. He _is_ a good friend. So be nice."

"Hey, I don't have a problem with him," Peeta defended, lifting his free hand up in surrender. "It's everyone else in the District that does. But mostly Hawthorne," he adds with a chuckle.

"I've already heard about the Katniss thing," I say, the two of us beginning to walk again.

"Yeah it's pretty inte- Wait, what Katniss thing?"

"Kendall used to try to flirt with her all the time so Gale punched him in the stomach or something," I explain with squinted eyes. Peeta raises his eyebrows in skepticism.

"That's not what I heard," he mutters, looking ahead of us where I can faintly see a few lit streetlamps through the fog. "Few years ago, I heard he knocked Gale's girlfriend up."

My mouth drops open in shock. "What?" I exclaim. "That… that can be right…"

"All I know is that Stacey – that was her name – got very pregnant, and Gale was not happy with Kendall. But now that you mention it, the stomach punching thing sounds familiar…" Peeta trails off. I bite my lip.

Kendall lied to me? Why would he do that? Did he think I'd judge him? Well, wait a second. Peeta obviously doesn't know the story is a sure thing. Maybe it was just a nasty rumor that Gale spread because Kendall hit on Katniss. Maybe. There's really no way to know sure.

Mentally slapping myself, I realize that there is. I could just ask Gale. Or is that too forward? Maybe I should actually get to know him first. Good grief, Summer, you're asking him a question, not marrying him.

Trying to forget the subject of Kendall and Gale and his possibly/maybe knocked up girlfriend altogether, I say quickly, "Back to the point, it can't be too bad. Worst case scenario, Gale is a psychopath and he murders me on the train."

Peeta gives me a look. "Just watch yourself," he says. "He's not as easygoing as me."

"Goodness," I sigh dramatically, "if you're easygoing, he's going to be a nightmare."

Looking ahead, the fog has almost cleared, and I can see the train station. I'm running out of time to say what I need to say.

"Do you remember what I said in that cell about happy endings?" I ask quickly, looking down at my shoes as we continue walking.

"Uh…" he goes silent for a few seconds in what I think is thought before continuing. "Yeah, I think so. You don't believe in them or something."

"Well, listen to me right now," I say. "I may not believe in my own happy ending, but I'm counting on yours."

He shakes his head in confusion, but doesn't reply. We're at the bottom of the steps of the platform, and I see Gale leaning on a pillar, holding something that looks like a biscuit in one hand, and a suitcase of his own in the other.

"Thought Katniss would be with you," he says when we get within speaking distance. "Didn't she want to say goodbye?"

"She wasn't feeling well so we said our goodbyes last night," I reply with a small smile. There a few other people on the platform, waiting for the train to pull into the station. There's a tense silence between the three of us as we join them.

"How's your family?" I ask Gale, trying to lighten the mood. I see Peeta glance at me suspiciously through the corner of my eye, but I don't turn around.

"Fine," he answers shortly, not looking at me. I narrow my eyes at him but don't respond, instead giving up and going quiet until I hear the train pull into the station. Wordlessly, Gale straightens his back and joins the small crowd of people shuffling onto the train.

"Guess this is goodbye?" Peeta says as I turn towards him. I smile.

"We'll still call each other. And I'll be back to visit in a few months at the most," I promise hopefully. He nods.

"Thanks for everything. I didn't say it before, but those visits back in the Capitol... I really enjoyed them," he says quietly. "And I'm sorry for how I responded to your family tree."

I roll my eyes. "First, you're welcome. The honor was all mine. And second, you only reacted how I knew you would. And I was mad at the time, but I guess you kind of deserved a little freak-out period," I say, still smiling. My eyes are tearing up, and I blink quickly to keep from crying.

"Take care of Katniss for me, okay?" I request. Before he can answer, I fall into his arms for a hug. I breathe in his scent, praying that I don't forget it the moment I let go.

"Before you go, can you tell me something?" Peeta asks. I nod confusedly. What could he want to know? "How does that story end? About the girl with the pink hair?"

I grin. "She lives happily ever after, of course."

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><p><strong>REVIEW PLEASE! <strong>


	25. Chapter 25

The first and only time I leave District 2, it's mid-autumn. I've finally given Gale enough of a reason to buy two tickets to Twelve. Money's been tight, and he makes sure to remind me every few hours that we're what he calls 'living modestly,' and I call, 'poor as hell.'

I had two jobs in the time I lived in District 2, one of them being a mail carrier. It was a terrible job with terrible pay. And I have no problem with pretending my first few weeks there didn't happen.

People there didn't exactly welcome me with open arms to begin with. Gale said it was because I looked too groomed. After that, I started noticing the things I did that made this so. For one thing, people in Two didn't seem to shower as often as I did, which I found odd since they tend to sweat more than I do on a daily basis. However, I started only showering three times a week.

Another difference I noticed was that it seemed like everyone else there was exceptionally muscular, even the women who stayed at home all day. I tried to build some muscle, I swear I did. Gale accused me of not really trying and giving up too quickly (Lie. I actually very quickly tried, and then not really tried giving up). He essentially got (legitimately) mad about my supposed laziness, which made me laugh.

Katniss hadn't been exaggerating when she said that Gale had a fancy job. Not only was he helping to train something I call, 'Peacekeepers 2.0," he was also one of the head supervisors for the reconstruction of a military base that was destroyed during the war. He's got this weird obsession with making sure that everything is better than what it was before the war, and I'm pretty sure it's because of his history with the Capitol. I called him out on it a few months ago, and he brought up my poor attempt to get in shape for the fifth time that day. I dropped it.

The promises Peeta and I had made to visit each other every few months to catch up fell through when Katniss became ill (some disease that _sounded_ like malaria, but wasn't malaria) about nine months after I left. We still called each other every once in a while, but never seemed to have anything interesting to say unless it was an update from Peeta on Katniss's health, or lack thereof. Once it started to look like she wasn't going to bounce back, Peeta began calling every day, and I didn't mind it.

But it became harder to hear after a while, knowing how much she was suffering. Knowing how much _he_ was suffering. Knowing that I couldn't afford a train ticket to see either of them.

There was nothing else stopping me. Gale seemed to be just as aggravated by the distance as I was. But, like he said, train tickets (especially tickets that need to get us from Two to Twelve) were expensive.

But then one night – a few months ago – Peeta had something other than, "I don't know. She's still hurting," to say. He sounded like he was in tears when he called to say that she'd regained an appetite and was able to keep down what she ate. So it was then, at three in the morning, when all of our lives started gradually getting better. For the first time in a year and a half, we all felt like life was worth living.

I got my second and better paying job at a local pub where I served food, Gale started being less angry all the time, Katniss grew healthier every week, and Peeta was able to – and this is a direct quote – "Wake up in the morning without worrying that she might not be there." Money was still incredibly tight, and there were days when we just didn't eat, but it was easier to get through the day.

"I thought you understood," Gale says, bringing my mind back to the present. The present, it just so happens, is a train. I glare at him without forgiveness, remembering the last several weeks.

"Just because I understand doesn't mean that I like it," I snap, turning away from him and towards the window where I can see some slowly dying plants making way for the winter chill.

"I don't like this anymore than you do-"

"Doubt it."

"-but trust me when I say that this is what's best," he says with the same strange sense of urgency he'd had when he gave me this same speech a few days ago.

"What's best for _us_, or what's best for _you_?" I ask, pressing my head against the cold window.

"You're not being reasonable," he complains.

"You're being an ass. What do you expect from me?" I say angrily.

"I expect you to act like the happy-go-lucky girl I met two years ago! The one who didn't let stupid shit like this get in her way," he answers. I can tell without looking that he's dramatically flailing his arms around like he always does when we argue. It's like how I don't look at him when we argue.

"You didn't know anything about her- _me_," I say. "And this isn't stupid. The fact that you're even saying that is just-"

"You're not being fair. You know that's not why-"

"I'm tired," I interrupt quickly. Bringing my knees to my chest, I curl up against the armrest of my chair and close my eyes.

Due to recent events and discoveries, Gale and I have had thirty seconds of conversation between the two of us that were not spent fighting. Those seconds, it just so happens, were when Gale announced he'd bought the tickets for a journey to Twelve (an announcement I'd been waiting for over a year now for).

Two days later, not only are we using said tickets, but the constant arguing has driven both of us mad – Mad in the angry sense, not the crazy sense.

For the record, the events leading up to this moment were not my fault. Really, it was nobody's fault because, contrary to what Gale strongly believes, it wasn't a mistake.

Apparently I've fallen asleep because I'm woken up by Gale's voice, which is noticeably less harsh now. "Summer, come on… We're here," he says. I let of a tired groan before stretching my arms and legs.

The trip took longer than we'd anticipated, and it's only a few minutes past midnight when we're off the train and we've collected our baggage. There's a full moon above us, lighting up most of the town by itself, though it helps that there are lit streetlamps every few buildings.

Just as we're stepping off the platform, I catch Haymitch's eye in my peripheral vision. I immediately shove my bag into Gale's chest without apology and run.

"Haystack!" I scream, giving him a hug. "What are you doing here? The train was supposed to get here hours ago."

"Lover boy asked me not-so-politely to help carry your stuff. It helped that the pub is open later on Sundays though," he says with a slight slur, showing that he's under the influence, but not drunk. I think.

"Oh please, you know you missed me," I say. "You didn't have to wait up though."

"It was all lover boy's idea," Haymitch replies lamely. Ignoring his poor argument, I begin walking back towards Gale to reclaim my bag.

As we stroll through the darkened town, I chat idly with Haymitch and by the time we make it to Katniss's house, I almost forget I've been gone for two years. But when I glance toward Gale every few steps, I'm grudgingly reminded of the actual amount of time I was away.

"You could've at least shaved," I hiss at Gale when Haymitch falls into step ahead of us.

Rubbing shoulder across the fuzz on his face, he replies, "Well, you could've packed less, but I guess we'll both just have to live with it."

I scoff but don't reply. I try for the remaining walk to Victor's Village to brighten my attitude, though it's hard to say the least. Gale had better not act this way in front of Katniss and Peeta. Haymitch might be able to overlook it in his drunken state, but I don't think it'd set right with the others.

I want to lean over and ask him to behave at least for a few minutes, but don't get the chance as I look up from my feet and see that we've arrived at my former temporary home.

Haymitch barges in without knocking, as to be expected, and I shuffle through the front door, making myself small as if I've never been there before. Suddenly shyer than I've ever been before, I let Gale walk in front of me as well.

"It's about time. What took you so long?" I hear Peeta ask. My heart lifts, and the shyness is gone, but I retrain myself from shoving Gale out of the way so that I can run towards the kitchen where the voice had come from.

"Damn train got in late," Haymitch replies grumpily. Odd, he seemed fine on the way here. I find myself staring at the same furniture that had been in the house since before I'd moved in. I look at the staircase I'd been carried down and by Peeta multiple times. I sigh longingly.

"Mellark," Gale greets stiffly. I roll my eyes. Maybe I should've told him to behave after all…

"Nice to see you too, Hawthorne," Peeta replies, just stiff but I can hear the smile behind the tone.

Grinning, I drop my bag and run into the kitchen. I stop, pausing to look for Peeta who is just to the right, leaning against the counter. Throwing my arms around him, I laugh.

"You grew your hair out!" I say, hugging him.

"And yours got shorter," Peeta replies wholeheartedly, though I notice that he's gripping the edge of the counter with his left hand.

Dropping my voice, I whisper, "Are you feeling alright?"

"What? Yeah, of course. Why?" he asks hurriedly. My eyes move to his nearly white hand.

"Because you're choking the granite," I say plainly. Haymitch has left out the back door without saying goodbye, I notice, but it's late and he was pretty much drunk anyway. But Gale hears us, I'm sure of it, even though he's in the next room.

I learned the hard way that he's got great hearing – apparently Gale's choice of weapon when he suspects someone is in the house at night is a large spoon. Of course, I was the only other person in the house. That night, we both learned that it's not a good idea to throw a spoon at someone's head. Ever.

"It's nothing," is his hasty response. "I'm just a little tired. The doctors keep changing my doses. It's… pretty stressful sometimes."

"Oh, well I'm really sorry we got here so late," I apologize. "We'll just go get settled in one of the other houses, and you and I will catch up lat-"

"I thought you said you were going to stay here," Peeta interrupts, giving me a confused look.

"Well, Katniss is still recovering, technically, and I don't think it'd be good for her to be surrounded by so much activity all the time," I lie.

"Besides," I add, "Gale couldn't possibly stay by himself. It'd be rude of me – and you. Don't worry about it."

"You sure?" he asks, raising a curious eyebrow at me. "You two have fun, I guess…" Knowing what he's thinking, I shake my head and slap my hand to my face.

"It's not like that," I mutter, a blush creeping onto my face. He sighs in what I think is relief before leading Gale and me to the house next door.

"Hey. Where's Katniss?" I ask Peeta while I unpack my things in the room I'm claiming.

"Hopefully sleeping," he answers, plopping down on the bed. "She never seems to get enough rest."

"Isn't there medication for that kind of thing?" I ask, tossing a few shirts into the dresser drawer.

"It doesn't work. None of it does," he replies quietly. "I didn't want to ask until we were out of hearing distance but… Does Gale know? About your father?"

"Peeta, I can honestly say that that is the last thing he needs on his plate right now," I say. We both frown, suddenly quiet.

I feel like there's this huge elephant in the room, and I have to remind myself that Peeta couldn't possibly suspect that something like this has happened. Still, I feel like we're both waiting for the other to mention the situation so that I can blame Gale and go to sleep with a less guilty conscience.

Fortunately and unfortunately, a yawn escapes my mouth before either of us can blurt something out.

"You had a long trip," Peeta says quietly. I shake my head and tell him I'm not tired. But he still gives me a hug and says, "Goodnight, Summer. Welcome back."

When he's gone from the house and my bags are unpacked, I tiptoe out into the hallway. I look to my left to see that the room Gale had claimed was dark, but the door is open. Maybe he's already asleep. I take a step towards the room, with the intention of apologizing, but think better of going any further. Seeing him right now would just make both of us angrier than we are already.

So instead, I slip back into my room, where I stay for the rest of the night.


	26. Chapter 26

**Yay, it's an update! Just a quick reminder for everyone that the gap between the last chapter and the one before it is two years, meaning that Summer is eighteen, Gale is 22(if my math was correct), and Katniss and Peeta are 20 (again, if I got my facts straight. I've been traveling this weekend so I'm disoriented and such right now). BIG BIG BIG CHAPTER! **

* * *

><p>The next morning, I wake to especially unpleasant feelings: nausea and dizziness. I'm taking deep breathes as a sit up, trying to push them away. My head feels heavy and I groan loudly as I let my entire body fall forward on the bed so that my face is where my feet should be.<p>

"You alright?" I hear Gale call from out in the hallway. Of course he heard that. I swear, he hears so much it's insane.

"Nothing you can help me with, jerk," I call back.

Alright, so maybe I'm being a little unfair. I'm not really angry at Gale, per say. I'm just extremely discouraged by the choices he's made as of late. Besides, it's not _all_ his fault. I knew what I was getting myself into. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was my idea. Was it? Actually… Wait.

Okay, so I don't really remember whose idea it was, but I'm pretty sure it was mine. He didn't have to go along with it though. He was probably less drunk than I was anyway – not that I actually remember that either – and he just shouldn't have let me drink.

"I'm going out to see my family. I'll be back in a few hours," Gale says tiredly. I huff to myself, but don't reply.

It's fifteen minutes before I can stand without using the bed for support; twenty before I can walk without worrying I'll throw up if I move. When I _can_ finally walk, I go into the bathroom where I see the purplish bags under my eyes from the several hours of sleep this month that were lost to nightmares.

My entire life, I'd had maybe three or four nightmares that I actually considered terrifying. I mean, everyone has bad dreams, but I just didn't have frequent nightmares. Until this last June.

And I don't mean that kind of nightmares that make you wake up for a few minutes before you fall asleep peacefully. I mean, terrifying, kicking the wall beside your bed, screaming your lungs out, stay up all night hyperventilating kind of nightmares. It's the kind where even if you do fall asleep eventually, it just comes back to haunt you in the dark corners of your bedroom.

Right, so I've been having these terrible nightmares like every other night since last summer. It's pretty much gotten to the point where I've been going for nightly walks just to stay awake. Gale hates it because apparently there's "a lot more crime around here" than I think, and "I could get seriously hurt without proper lighting." So I walked.

Now, from the way I talk about Gale, some might get the idea that we never liked each other at all – which is not true. We were actually really good friends for the first year. But then we were both working so hard to pay all the bills, and things got weird.

I shake the past from my head as I slowly get dressed and brush my hair. By the time I'm out the front door and walking down the street, the unsettled stomach is settled, and I try to prepare myself to act like nothing is wron-

_I smell bacon._

Yes, this is my first thought after I barge into Katniss's large house. I do feel guilty, I won't pretend I don't. My first thought should've been something like, _I'm finally home_, or something, but it wasn't.

"That you, Blondie?" I hear Peeta call. I walk into the kitchen grinning.

"You can't call someone Blondie if you're a Blondie too, Blondie," I laugh, plopping down in a seat across the island counter from him and the stove where the bacon is frying.

"Surprised you didn't come over some fifteen minutes ago with Gale. I thought you said you guys were friends," he says, flipping over a few of the strips of bacon.

"Would it be terribly imposing if I asked to stay here instead of going back to Two?" I ask in reply with frown. Peeta looks at me with a concerned face.

"Did something happen? Did he hurt you?" he starts asking. My eyes widen.

"No! Oh my goodness, no! Peeta, it's not like that," I hiss quickly. "I just… I don't think it's working out for me there. A-And Katniss is still recovering, and you look tired, and Haymitch is drinking like there's no tomorrow, and Gale is… very independent."

"You're always welcome here," is the calm response he gives me. I smile slightly at him in thanks. Peeta nods slowly, like he's still questioning my motives, but he nods nonetheless.

"Summer," I hear Katniss's quiet voice behind me. I turn around on the stool to see her bundled in a thick robe with her hair a sloppy and tangled braid. I smile, rushing towards her to give her a hug.

"You're supposed to be resting," Peeta tells Katniss from behind me. She grimaces, but hugs me back gratefully.

"I'm not an invalid," she replies swiftly.

"Not anymore," Peeta mutters to himself before I hear the loud sizzle of flipping bacon.

"How are you?" I ask Katniss, trying to distract myself from the enchanting aroma around me.

In response, she tiredly holds up her left hand. For an extremely brief moment I'm confused before I see the ring on her finger. In response, I scream loudly (okay, maybe a little _too_ loudly, but this is pretty amazing news) and start hugging them both all over again.

"When did this happen?" I barely refrain from screeching. I shift my gaze to Peeta. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He grins at me. "I wanted to see your reaction, not just feel my eardrums bursting over the phone," he says as Katniss and I reclaim our seats at the counter.

"But… I don't get it. When did this… How did I not figure it out?"

"It was a few days before my fever broke," Katniss answers, looking down at her lap. There's a long silence before I change the subject awkwardly.

"Would it be weird if I just grabbed one of those strips of bacon, or do I have to wait ten more minutes?" I say, leaning forward and looking at the cooking bacon.

"If by weird, you mean painful because the frying pan is hot, then yes. Here, these pieces are done," Peeta replies, glancing at Katniss confusedly before slipping a few pieces of bacon onto a plate for me.

"So when's the wedding?" I ask with my mouth full. Mmm, this bacon is amazing. Is it usually this good? No, I don't think it is.

There's no reply for a few moments.

"Uh," Peeta says, "we're not going to start making any official or public plans until Katniss is a bit better."

"Oh," I say. Taking a breath and ask, "So where's Buttercup, my one true love?"

Peeta chuckles, and Katniss scowls to herself, but it's enough to lighten the topics. And suddenly we're talking about my life in District 2, the Capitol, the weather, and for a moment, I almost tell them what's happened, but I'm stopped by a vision of their judging faces. I know I'll have to tell them eventually but… Actually, why should _I_ be the one to tell them? Gale should have to do it. It's just as much his fault as it is mine.

It's a little after four in the afternoon, when the three of us have moved into the den to continue our conversations, that there is a knock on the door. Peeta leaves to answer it and comes back with Gale.

"Hawthorne, can I talk to you in private for a minute?" I ask, looking up at the ceiling. When I look back at Gale he's giving me a partially amused look, but he nods. I lead him outside onto the front porch and turn to look at him with crossed arms.

"I'm going to tell them," I state. He sighs. "But I'm going to give you a choice. You can either go in there with me, and I'll try my best to make you seem like less of a jerk than you are. Or I can give you thirty minutes to leave Twelve and never have anything to do with this again. The only catch is that you can't come back later."

Gale looks down at the ground at groans, pinching his nose. "That's not fair," he mutters.

I squint at him in confusion. "What? I thought it seemed reasonable enough-"

"No, I mean what you're doing. You can go weeks making it so easy to be angry at you, and then you propose something like that, and suddenly I feel like an ass," he explains exasperatedly.

I laugh. "You are an ass. But _they_ don't have to know _you're_ the ass," I say quietly.

"Why would you do that for me?" he asks. I roll my eyes.

"You know why," I reply. We both frown slightly at each other before Gale nods, and gestures to the door.

"After you," he says. I tilt my head to the side.

"You're staying?" I ask softly. "Why?"

"Because I'm an ass," Gale replies. I smile.

"Yeah, well. So am I."

With that over, he and I return to the den where Peeta and Katniss sit in silence. Peeta looks at me suspiciously at first, but we're able to resume our easier conversations from before. Haymitch somehow drags himself over here and seems surprised to see me, saying that he thought I wasn't coming until next week. I laugh, but everyone else seems confused, if not angry.

Peeta cooks some kind of meat (who knows what it is) for dinner and everyone else has some goopy looking green vegetables on their plate. Peeta sits across from me, Katniss on his left, Gale on his right, just across from Haymitch who was unapologetically inhaling his food.

Throughout the meal, Gale and I take turns giving each other looks, asking if 'now's the right time,' before the other shakes their head in opposition. It's not until after my plate is empty and I begin feeling nauseous for the first time since I woke up that the need to tell them becomes almost urgent.

"I have something I need to tell you all," my mouth says before I can change my mind. Gale sets his fork down in discomfort but says nothing to stop me. Peeta and Katniss look worried- Peeta especially. He probably thinks I'm going to tell everyone my last name. Haymitch is squinting his eyes at me in confusion, and I wonder if he's actually still drunk from last night. And now that I think about it, he smells awful. I wonder when the last time he took a bath was.

"What is it?" Peeta asks cautiously. I see him glance at Gale with a bit of fear in his eyes. But he's worrying about the wrong person reacting badly.

"I'm pregnant."

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><p><strong>Awwwww shiz. How does this one get explained? FIND OUT NEXT TIME AFTER YOU REVIEW! -_- Seriously people. I can see you reading this. I can. Now, you'd better review. Now. Please. I need to feed my family.<strong>


	27. Chapter 27

There's exactly five seconds of silence before Peeta has Gale tackled to the ground, yelling at him. Katniss has gone quiet, looking at me blankly. And Haymitch is- well, his face is a mixture between outrage and confusion while he rubs his forehead in his drunken state.

"Peeta, stop!" I yell, running around the table so that I'm standing over them.

"You promised you wouldn't let her do anything stupid!" Peeta says to Gale. His fists are clenched tightly, and it appears that he's only moments away from punching him. "You let her get knocked up? How is that _not_ stupid?"

"Peeta, it's not what you think!" I say loudly, trying to pull him off of Gale, who stares up at me in false boredom. He's telling me that we both saw this coming. I sigh inwardly. "Get off of Gale."

"Why?" Peeta almost squeaks in anger. Is he having an attack, or is he actually this angry? "You told me yourself, you two aren't even really friends."

"We're _married_, Peeta. The baby is his," I say quietly. Peeta has gone from angry to livid, but I grab his raised fist before he can follow the punch through. I'm jolted forward as he still tries to bring his fist to Gale, but I don't fall over completely.

"Are you insane?" he screams at Gale. "Are you _kidding _me?" He shakes his fist out of my grasp, but Haymitch pulls him off of Gale harshly. I can feel Katniss's blank eyes staring through the back of my head as I help Gale off the floor.

I shouldn't have jumped to the pregnancy. Or the marriage. I should've jumped off the cliff.

Peeta's screaming now, but not at anyone in particular. Haymitch holds him back with difficulty. Katniss doesn't move.

"Gale, I think it would be best if-" I start to mutter, but he cuts me off.

"Yeah, I figured. Good luck," he murmured with a nod and a small smile. Peeta still screams profanities, kicking the air as he tries to get away from Haymitch, but Gale has already strolled out the door. I groan as I try to help Haymitch calm Peeta down without having to knock him out.

"Peeta," I inquire, pressing my hands to his face gently, "do you know where you are?"

"Capitol," he just barely spits through his gritted teeth.

"Do you know who I am?" I ask, pressing more firmly. He's answered the question of whether or not he was having an attack. Now all I have to do is bring him back. But I thought he'd said his medication had fixed this.

"Uh…" he hesitates, shaking his head roughly. I ask him again, louder. He's not struggling so hard anymore, but Haymitch is still holding his wrists behind his back. "You're, uh… What's going on?"

"Haymitch is going to help you lie down on the couch, Peeta. You're fine. You're safe," I sooth, backing up slowly as Haymitch guides Peeta to the living room. "We're in Twelve. Katniss is here too. She's your fiancé now. You're both very happy."

"What happened?" Peeta asks, his eyes still slightly glazed over.

"I told you I was pregnant, and you attacked Gale," I answer quietly. He frowns with a noticeable flinch.

"Are you sure?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, you probably bruised his ribcage a little…" I start to say, but he cuts me off.

"I mean about the pregnancy," he interrupts. Brushing my hair behind my ear, I smile softly.

"Positive," I joke, but it falls flat at the hurt look on Peeta's face. I turn around to see a still unmoving Katniss, staring blankly at the two of us, and Haymitch, who pretends not to hear us.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" I ask in a hushed tone. "I need to go talk to Gale." Peeta doesn't reply, but instead stands up shakily and goes up the stairs without a word.

Turning slowly to Katniss, I say, "Do you hate me too?"

She continues to stare at me before saying shortly, "Gale always wanted kids."

Odd, I think. I wouldn't have made that assumption based on the last few weeks. I guess it's not the most conventional way to start a family, but- No wait. Not a family. We're not a family. We're… something, but we're not a family.

Having a family is just another thing that would make me more like my mother. And I'm enough like her as it is. No, Gale and I are just in a situation. An interesting situation. A stressful situation. A situation that involves a baby.

"I need to go talk to Gale. It was nice seeing you all again," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster before walking out the front door.

The only reason I'm aware of tears on my face is that the cold wind tonight makes it feel like they're burning holes in my skin. Why is it that the moment Gale accepts my pregnancy as a not-so-bad thing, everyone else I know _doesn't_?

Did I do something as a child that was so terrible that I'm still constantly being punished for it? Well, I guess it depends on who you ask.

This is not fair. I thought they'd understand, for some reason. Why shouldn't they? I'm eighteen years old, an adult. It's not like I'm _constantly_ getting drunk and doing stupid things. Anymore. Why can't they just accept what is? Especially Peeta. He's already been thrown the curveball with the word _Snow_ written on it. Really, how does a pregnancy compare? It doesn't. It just doesn't.

When I get back to the house, I find Gale in the kitchen, looking through a cabinet above the sink.

"It's official. We have no food at all," he says without looking up.

"I was thinking we could go by City Hall tomorrow morning," I whisper, my voice cracking on every other word. He looks up at me with a surprised expression.

"I thought that we were-"

"I'm letting you out of it. You said so yourself, you don't love me. So why should we stay married? Because I'm pregnant? No, that's not fair to anyone," I say quickly, looking at everything but him.

"You're quitting," he says, but it's almost like a question. I'm suddenly on the defensive.

"Two hours ago, _you_ were quitting!" I tell him loudly. "I don't wanna spend the rest of my life feeling guilty for making you feel like you needed to stay. And I don't want you to miss out on what's left of your life."

"What's the point of living my life if you're not in it?" he asks suddenly. We both pause, and I have to seriously refrain from giggling.

"Gale, that is the cheesiest thing you've ever said to me," I mutter, bringing my hand to my face. "Gah, why did you say that? Now I'm confused."

"It's not that complicated. Tell me what you want," Gale says, walking towards me until he's only a foot away.

My father. Home. Liala. Simplicity. Understanding. Routine. Solitude.

"Sleep," I reply weakly. I turn to run up the stairs in cowardice, but Gale grabs my wrist, stopping me.

"You can't just sleep off a marriage," he says firmly. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, I know. That's what City Hall is for. Now, let me go. I'm tired," I say, exasperated. I tug at my wrist but he holds on. "Gale."

"What if I don't wanna get a divorce anymore?" he asks, loosening his grip, but not letting go. My eyes widen.

"Trust me, you still want to," I remark sourly.

"Who is that really wants this? Me or you?"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I reply. Before either of us has a chance to say anything else, someone bangs on the front door. "I'll get it," I mumble, yanking my arm away. He lets go this time, and I walk to the front door without him following me.

"I want an explanation. Now," Peeta orders when I open the door. Honestly, I'm not sure whether to be relieved that he's willing to listen, or frustrated that he still treats me like a fifteen year-old. Actually, I think he treated me with more respect when I was fifteen. What happened?

Grabbing my coat from the stand by the door, I yell, "I'm going out!"

"What?" I hear Gale yell back. I put my coat on and lightly shove Peeta outside. "I'm not finished talking!"

"I am!" And with that, the conversation is over.


	28. Chapter 28

It's the first night since the nightmares started that actually requires a coat to be worn. I'm walking through a small forest area with insanely tall trees whose leaves are falling away to the ground in a swaying motion that I find myself studying for hours on end. I find a large tree root sticking out of the dirt and sit where it's highest, probably a foot off the ground.

How did I get here? I ask myself this question every night. Every night, I think over every insignificant and significant moment I can remember in my life. My wonderful first six years, my next terrifyingly painful seven years, the lonely years before and after I met Peeta, the fun, dramatic months in District 12.

And now.

Maybe I'm not as miserable as I've convinced myself I am. It's really not that bad here. Sure, the roof caves in every time it rains, and I have no friends at all, and doing laundry is a pain, and the only meal I know how to cook is pasta, but I'm sure I'm just overreacting.

"Are you insane?" I hear Gale shout behind me. I hang my head without turning around. "It's almost dawn! Did you sleep at all?"

"Nope," I reply, popping the 'p.' He sits beside me on the tree root, but his size makes it look like a stick.

"Maybe you should talk to Doctor Harlow. He could probably-" he starts to suggest.

"And how would we pay for it?" I snap, glaring at him. His steady gaze doesn't falter, but I can tell he's offended. "Ugh, wow. Okay, I'm sorry. I'm just tired."

"No, you're right," he protests calmly. "We're lucky that the medicine from Doctor Aurelius isn't expensive."

"I could take up more hours at the pub," I say, bite my lip in frustration. I hate talking about money with him. It's depressing, and it reminds me how much I hate my current life. But I might as well offer to work more, what else am I going to do?

He squints at me, though, and shakes his head. "Summer, you probably haven't slept longer than three hours this week. You don't need to work more."

I nod silently, but disagree. Aside from the sleeplessness, why shouldn't I take on more hours? I only work six hours a day. That's hardly anything. Not as much as I could be doing. No wonder we're so broke. Gale works all day, every day. I'm the lazy one. Why won't he let me work more?

"Why are _you_ up so early?" I ask. As a side effect of staying awake all night, my pulse is racing and my eyes are trying to stay shut every time I blink. But I can't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep. Please, don't fall asleep.

"I think there's a cricket living in my wall," he answers. Despite myself, I laugh, and he smiles in return. "I saw that the porch light was on. Figured that you'd come out here."

"Why?"

"Well, I know how much you appreciate sunrise, and this is the absolute best place in all of Panem to see it," he says.

"You're a rotten liar," I tell him, still grinning.

"No, it's true," he protests. I shake my head.

"You've obviously never been to District Four. Now that's a beautiful sight. On a clear morning, you can see all of the pinks and oranges perfectly reflected in the ocean. And the way everything seems to come awake with color is just… inspiring."

"And what does it inspire you to do, exactly?" he asks with a semi-mocking tone, though I know he's genuinely curious.

"Well, at the time it inspired me to… _truly_ believe that this isn't all there is. That Panem isn't as good as it gets," I reply, staring at the sky distractedly as I yawn. "But now, when I remember it – It's hard to explain without being too cliché."

"Oh, trust me," Gale says. "You're way past that."

I smile, but yawn again. "Now, I can say without a doubt that I would live the rest of my life without a moment of restful sleep if it meant getting to wait up all night to see that sunrise. Because… no matter how terrible my life seems sometimes, I'll always have that moment. And that's good enough for me."

"Unless you want to eat every day," Gale remarks bluntly. I smack his arm roughly. "I'm kidding!" he defends himself, but he laughs without shame. "Kidding!"

"No, you're just a jerk," I say with a ghost of a smile leaking onto my face. I think my blood is about to come streaming out of my neck, my pulse is racing so fast. My eyes are fighting fiercely, now, to stay awake. I could probably let them rest for a few moments without any trouble… No. No, that'd be stupid. Stay awake, Summer. Stay awake.

"Are you going to be able to make it home?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"No way. I'll probably die out here. And when I do, just know that there's buried treasure in the-" I cut myself short, falling backwards into the dirt as I pretend to die.

Unfortunately, I've let my eyes close for a moment too long, and they refuse to be opened. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake…

* * *

><p><p>

I spend more hours at the pub in the following week, but not for work. I learned that whenever I drink enough that I pass out, I don't dream – thus, no nightmares. Gale doesn't suspect a thing; he just knows that I'm not screaming in my sleep anymore.

It's the seventh day in a row that I've used the intoxication method to get rid of my burdens that I sit on a bench outside the bar. I'm out of money – not including the half of my salary that I reserve for the bills. I can only imagine Gale's face if he knew I was holding out on him financially.

"Summer?" I hear Gale call down the sidewalk to where I sit. My eyes widen as I clench my jaw. Looks like I'm about to be able to do more than just imagine his face.

"Gale," I greet with a smile when he's closer. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got off from work, and I was looking for you. Are you... waiting for someone?" he asks, his eyes shifting from the door of the pub to me.

"You mean, like a date? With this face? Nonsense. I was just enjoying the weather before it gets too cold," I ramble. Truth, truth, truth, lie. I'm out here because I'm not drunk enough to be knocked out, but I'm out of money.

"You say you got that scar from the war?" Gale reminds me of more lies I've told. "If you wear it proudly, people here will respect you."

"I don't want the respect of these people," I snap, looking down. _Calm down_, I think to myself. _Act normal. Don't make a scene_. But I can feel the alcohol in my system, and it's not easy to ignore.

"Do you want to go for a walk with me?" Gale asks, holding his hand out towards me. My pulse quickens as I nod and let him pull me up off the bench.

We begin walking out towards the forest where I'd usually go to watch the sunrise. My arms hang awkwardly by my sides as I try to focus on the color of the dirt path rather than the narrowness of it and the fact that Gale's hand is hanging a few inches from mine like it's daring me to grab it.

"Any news about Katniss lately?" he inquires, his gaze shifting to me.

"Every time Peeta calls, he says she's better than the day before," I say, fondly thinking of my friends. "I'll never forget how scary it was when…" I cut myself short, thinking of the months where Katniss was on the brink of death.

"I'm sorry," Gale says. "I know how much you wanted to visit."

"Well, if I had to suffer being away, I'm glad it was with you."

He squints his eyes at me in suspicion. "What did you break?" he asks.

I laugh. "I mean it. You handled that situation surprisingly better than Peeta and I did, _all things considered_." I mumble the last part, and hope he doesn't catch it.

"Like what?"

Well, I guess he heard it. "Well, you used to be in love with her, so I guess we were all just waiting for you to jump on a train and do some big, romantic gesture for her," I say truthfully, looking down at my feet again. "Maybe she would've made a newer, _stronger_, friend who could _really_ beat you up," I add.

"Hey, maybe you'd do a better job at it if you'd actually try to get in shape," Gale teases. I scowl at him.

"I tried!" I cry out at the sky in anger.

"You did not," he laughs, ignoring my glowering.

"See, this is why I don't say nice things to you very often," I state. "You don't know how to deal with compliments."

"Okay, truce," Gale surrenders, feigning shame and exhaustion. I grin.

"That didn't take as long as I thought it would," I say. "You usually put up much more of a fight."

"Well, you paid me a compliment. Arguing with you, even when I'm clearly right, would be a jerk move on my part," he tells me. I have a quip ready to throw at him, but I only bite the inside of my cheek.

We're still walking on the path through the thin forest, but I repeatedly find myself beginning to walk beside the path, where the ground is drier, in our prolonged silence.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Gale asks suddenly, and I realize he's been staring at me. I look away from him and quickly scrub off the pink lipstick I'd been wearing.

"No," I lie. "Why would you ask that?"

"I don't know," he replies, now looking forward again. I can feel the back of my neck sweating slightly due to my nervousness.

"Where are we going?" I question. Gale grins.

"That depends," he says. "How long do you think we could walk for?"

"All the way to Twelve," I answer. "Walking is free."

"Back in Four… How far were you allowed to swim from the beach?" Gale asks suddenly. I blink, remembering that he thinks that was where I grew up. I'm unsure of how far a person could get without being shot down by Peacekeepers, but I doubt that there were walls in the ocean.

"I… don't know. Criminal exploits like running away were something you had to seek out information about. My parents didn't gossip," I tell him. That is probably the biggest lie I've ever told. How could my parents not be gossips? They had information – _dirt, _is more like it – on everyone, from the highest dignitary to the lowest street rat. As a child, I'd thought it was a game. But later on, I realized that it was cruel and just another result of their hunger for power.

Gale and I don't talk for a while longer as we walk. The sun starts to set and I see that we've gone in a circle and ended back up at the tree root I sit at on nights I don't sleep. How convenient, I won't be getting any sleep tonight anyway.

"It's not as good as the sunrise, I guess, but it's something," Gale tells me. I smile softly.

"It is something, isn't it?" I say.

* * *

><p><p>

Thump.

Thump, thump.

Thump.

Thump, thump.

Why does my head hurt like this? What's making that noise? Where are my clothes? Why's it so bright in here? Are my eyes even open? No. Wait, this isn't my pillow.

"What the…"

My eyes snap open, and I check my surroundings. I'm in bed. The curtains are shut. My head throbs. Gale is also in the bed.

"Hell," I curse, turning around to find him sitting up beside me. My eyes are wide, as are his, and neither of us speak. Instead, we just stare at each other.

I pull the comforter up to my neck in discomfort, but Gale looks like he's about to go into shock. Or maybe he already has. What is happening?

The last thing I remember was calling a truce with Gale, but this is not what I had in mind. I know this sure as hell isn't what he had in mind either. But maybe nothing happened. Maybe I just got into his bed on accident last night. And maybe I forgot to put clothes on before I fell asleep.

Oh no. I fell asleep? I must've been drunk last night. Right, I called the truce with Gale at the bar, and he bought me a drink and… Did I black out? I must have, because I didn't dream last night. So I guess there's a possibility that something didn't happen.

"Can you turn around?" I ask quietly, my lips barely moving. Gale averts his eyes, trying to find something to look at. I look around the room also, but looking for my clothes. I see my dress at the end of the bed, but my coat is nowhere to be found. I get off the bed, dragging the blanket along to cover myself up. I look back at Gale to see if he's peeking, but he's rummaging through the pocket of a pair of his pants that were on the floor.

"Are you kidding me?" he groans in frustration.

"What?" I ask, my voice still as tiny as possible.

"My wallet's empty!" he exclaims. I narrow my eyes at him.

"That's what you're worried about right now? You don't have any _money_?" I screech. I can feel my face getting redder as I stumble towards him. "Are you insane?"

"That was my pay for last month! Can't you take a break from your self-pity drama for five seconds and be serious for a while?" he snaps at me. I want to slap him – badly – but I need both my hands to hold the blanket up around me.

Turning to walk out of the room as I cup my head in pain, I say, "Go to hell."

* * *

><p>Later that evening, I'm walking slowly though town with a blank look on my face when an elderly woman who works at the bakery in town approaches me with a wide grin on her's.<p>

"Well if it isn't the lovely bride!" she gasps, leaning forward to hug me. My eyes widen so much I almost feel my eyebrows reach my hairline. I stand still as she hugs me, but hold my hand out when she tries to walk away.

"Bride? I'm not married," I tell her, my voice shaking. She shakes her head in disagreement.

"Oh, I guess you're not used to being a wife yet, are you?" she replies with a smile. "If you need anything, you just ask. I live right there on the corner." She gestures to a small house a few lots away.

"That's very kind of you, ma'am," I say unsurely. I've never spoken to this woman before. "But I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

The woman looks at me confusedly now. "You and Mr. Hawthorne... I'm sorry, I just assumed…" she replies, obviously flustered. "You two went to City Hall last night. I didn't… Are you alright, dear?"

"Wha- Huh?" I ask, her question bringing me out of my circle of internal nausea.

"Are you feeling alright? You look pale," she tells me, worry and slight discomfort crossing her features. I shake my head.

"I'm fine," I say, but it sounds more like a question. "Could you excuse me? I need to… I need to…" I don't finish the sentence, because I'm running back to the house. Well, I ran for a while, but then I got tired so I paced a lot of the way there.

I can feel my life quickly crumbling in pieces around me. Things seem so impossible that by the time I get back to the house, I half expect my mother to be there with a sign that says, "Happy Birthday!" She isn't, obviously, but she might as well be. It probably wouldn't shock me right now. Or ever.

Am I married to Gale? No. I chant the answer over and over in my head. Doesn't marriage require a lot of paperwork? And Gale and I were evidently very drunk last night so there's no way we would've been able to fill all that out. Maybe Gale wasn't as drunk as he's letting on… No, that's ridiculous too. He'd made it very clear that his feelings for me were completely platonic.

How am I supposed to tell Gale about this? Maybe I shouldn't. I'm already inside the house before I realize that not only do I not feel any better about the situation than I did a few minutes ago outside, but also, Gale isn't here. Where could he have gone? He's not working today, is he? No, it's the first weekend of the month.

I walk back outside, my destination being City Hall. The whole town looks different to me; the colors duller, the wind colder, and the streets longer. I know that in reality, nothing's changed. But suddenly, everything has changed.

As I walk up the six (and counting) steps that lead up to City Hall, I wonder what I'm supposed to say when I get in there.

_Hi, did I get married here last night?_

I'd only visited City Hall twice before, to fill out citizenship forms a year ago, and then apparently last night to get married to Gale. The last part of that thought makes my stomach churn. This cannot be happening.

The inside of City Hall is just as a person living in the Districts could expect it to be: overly extravagant and brutally cold. Maybe it's the marble floors, pillars, ceilings and the fact that you can hear the _silence_ in the room echoing off the walls, but this room as got a definite chill to it. On one hand, I could sit in here all day and study the patterns throughout the tiled floor without any problem. But on the hand, it reminds me of home. "Home" being the place I lived throughout my childhood. "Home" being the place that, until now, I hadn't considered a home at all.

I know immediately from the desk clerk's surprised reaction to my presence that I was definitely here last night. I roll my eyes and sigh at my past self, and try to phrase the next sentence as casually as I can.

"I got married here last night," I say, narrowing my eyes in silent inquiry. The woman behind the large desk nods, raising an eyebrow at me.

"And you're here to pick up your marriage certificate," she says, her tone suspicious.

I take a long, deep breath before responding, "Yeah, yeah. Can I… pick that up now?"

She types on her keyboard for a few moments and, without looking up, says, "You're in luck. It should only take about an hour to grab after you fill out this paperwork." She places the inch-thick stack of forms on the desk, and my jaw drops.

"Paperwork?" I sputter. "What for? Aren't these public documents?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she replies. "But we're not allowed to give certain information to just anyone. If you have other plans today, you could schedule a specific time later in the week to come by and fill these out then."

"Can't I… Can't I just take these home to fill them out?"

"I'm sorry; we're not permitted to allow you to leave the presence of a designated witness with the paperwork," the woman says, looking unapologetic as she continues to stare at the screen.

"But I was just here last night!" I almost shout. "You know it's me!"

"In the past, we'd be able to just see an I.D., but since President Paylor has been in office, personal documentation is harder to to obtain. But I assure you, it's for your own safety."

I want to yell at her. This is a_ marriage certificate_ for goodness' sake! Why is it such a huge deal?

"I'll fill these out now then," I sigh finally.

* * *

><p><p>

Gale's gone pale. I'd thought the look he gave me this morning had been cold, but that was nothing compared to now.

"Well," I say quietly as I take a large breath, "are you going to say something?"

He doesn't respond. He just stares – no, he's glaring – at me blankly. What's he thinking? This shouldn't be happening. I didn't want this. I wanted something but certainly not marriage. I just want to curl up in my bed and fall asleep and wake up in my cell in the Capitol. I'm that desperate. Why is this happening to me?

"Gale, come on," I continue, trying to push my feelings back down my throat. I just need to get Gale under control, and then I can go freak out in private. "It's not that bad. We can just… We can just fill out the divorce papers and then-"

"We are _not_ married!" Gale shouts suddenly. I jump slightly in the chair I'm sitting in across from him in the kitchen.

"It's just a law thing," I start, trying to hold back tears. We argue a lot, sure, but he usually never raises his voice. He's angry, and he's not holding back. "We just need to fill out the forms, and it'll be like nothing ever happened."

"Summer, that's not how it happens. It takes time. Money. Can you imagine what would happen if people found out about this?" he asks, still not lowering his voice. I shut my eyes in silence, still resisting the urge to cry. _Hold it together. Hold it together._

"Gale, nobody is going to find out. It's all completely confidential," I say, looking down at the table to avoid his gaze. "And we'll… work the money thing out. I can ask Peeta if he can lend-"

"We're not borrowing money from him," Gale growls. I bring my hands to my face in frustration.

"It was just a suggestion," I mumble apologetically. "Maybe we could make this work…"

"This could never work," he snaps. "Don't you get it? I don't love you. I never have, and I never will."

I flinch. "Yeah, I've got that," I say sharply. "Forget I said anything." Standing up from the table, I tap the counter beside me silently for a moment.

"I didn't plan this," I finally blurt. "You should know that."

"I do," he says, not looking up, but instead glaring at the table where he still sits. I sigh in relief, but there's no tension released.

I'm still married to Gale Hawthorne. Maybe I did plan this- not consciously, but plan it, nonetheless. I've heard that when a person is intoxicated, they become the person that they're afraid to be when they're sober. I ponder as to whether or not Gale was even in the slightest bit conscious of the events while they were transpiring last night.

"I'll go to City Hall again tomorrow morning," I tell him. "Maybe if I explain what happened, they'll lower the divorce fees."

"It won't work," he mutters, still not looking at me. I try to roll my eyes, but hot tears have filled them without my permission. I'm about to tell him off, but the phone rings before I can open my mouth. He and I glare at each other for a second before I grab the phone.

"Hello?" I answer. My voice is scratchier than I'd thought, and I tell myself to calm down. This isn't that big of a deal. Actually, there's no point in lying to myself. This is a huge deal. But you don't have to be dramatic. Just get a grip.

"Is this a bad time?" I hear Peeta's worried voice on the other end.

"No, this is an excellent time. I'm not doing anything important," I tell him, giving Gale a mix between a smirk and a grimace. I carry the phone into my bedroom as Peeta talks, shutting the door behind me.

"Are you crying?" Peeta asks. I laugh, but it's forced.

"Why the hell would I be crying, Peeta?" _I could name a few reasons._ "My nose is just stopped up from being outside all day. It's getting colder here very quickly." _The weather is chilly too._

"Are you sure you don't need anything? I know you're tight on money…" he trails off. _One train ticket to somewhere else, enough money to pay for a divorce, and a hug maybe?_

"You just need to worry about Katniss, okay? How is she today?" I ask quickly, trying to change the subject.

His tone brightens at the new topic. "She was able to sit up in bed without any help," he informs me.

"I bet she's dying to get out of that room," I laugh, momentarily forgetting my own worries. "I'm surprised she hasn't tried to escape yet."

"Oh believe me, she has," Peeta replies. "She only manages to get down the hall, though. If she wasn't taking so much medication before dinner, she'd probably make it to the forest without waking me up."

"Well, thank goodness for medication then," I say. "Speaking of which…"

"You don't have to remind me," he interrupts. "I took it a few minutes ago. See? I'm a perfectly able adult."

"Well so am I, but we all forget things," I respond too dryly. "For example, I forgot to eat dinner tonight."

I can practically hear him roll him eyes over the phone. "You'd think that if he were good for anything, Gale could at least make sure you'd eat."

"He's got a lot on his mind," I remind him and myself. "He's working more hours with less pay. He shouldn't have to worry about anyone but himself."

"When you invite someone to come live with you, you have to be willing to take on more responsibility," Peeta argues.

"Like you did when Katniss moved in with you?" I ask, a small smile on my face.

There's a short silence before he begrudgingly says, "You know I live in her house."

"Yeah, I just wanted to win the discussion," I tell him, my smile growing. From there, we talk for an hour (admittedly, most of it was based on whether or not a person can actually "win" a discussion) before we say our goodbye's and hang up.

Only I don't hang up. And neither does Peeta. We sit in a comfortable silence, waiting for the other to end the call. Nothing is said. We just sit.

* * *

><p><strong>There ya go! A little more insight into Summer and Gale's relationship, and their life in District Two. True, their relationship isn't perfect, but whose is? Pleeeeasee review! It inspires me to write more quickly so DO IT.<strong>


	29. Chapter 29

"And you didn't feel like mentioning this earlier?" Peeta yells when I'm finished catching him up on the last few months.

We're just outside the forest where the fence surrounding the District used to be. They must've taken it down a while ago, because there's no evidence that it was ever there at all. As if I need anything else to have changed.

"You kept your engagement from me, I kept my wedding and pregnancy from you," I say, my voice cold and hard, though I know I'm not being fair to him. But it wasn't easy telling Peeta what had happened in Two. I'd barely had time to fully relive them myself, so telling him was far from painless. The least he could do was appreciate the fact I'd opened up. "And you didn't have to attack Gale," I add offhandedly.

"Didn't I?" he snaps. I blink at him in confusion. "You basically just told me that he's been doing nothing but screwing around with you and your feelings. Summer, you can't let people do that to you!"

"It's not like I never did it to him!" I scream in frustration. "Do you really think that the fighting and arguing was one-sided? No. In fact, you should probably have attacked _me_, if that's your way of solving everything. It's all my fault! I shouldn't have spewed my feelings at him."

"If you were really that unhappy, why didn't you just ask me to pay for a train ticket? I would've…" he trails off, a bead of sweat breaking out at his hairline.

I take a deep breath. "He's my friend, Peeta," I say calmly.

"I'm your friend too," he points out, frowning at me.

This is what I hate about Peeta. He's one of the few people in this world that can make me feel truly sad. Yes, I felt guilty for probably influencing a drunken Gale to marry me. And I definitely feel guilty that he's giving up his whole life to take care of a child he doesn't particularly want. But he didn't make me sad._ I_ make me sad.

Peeta, on the other hand, has this uncanny ability to ruin my happiness. For instance, he made me incredibly sad years ago when he decided I was too evil to be in his life. Or even when we were in the Capitol and he'd yell at me, spewing insults every which way.

But then again, he also has the power to make me laugh despite myself. He can force me to get out of bed when I've slept past noon. He certainly doesn't take any crap from me. He's right. He _is_ my friend.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "But I can't leave Gale."

He shakes his head at me with a far off look on his face. "I just feel like this is the universe's way of biting me in the back," he confides.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"It's no secret that Gale's always had feelings for Katniss. But she chose me. So now the universe is letting him get you instead. Which isn't worse, but it still sucks," Peeta says. My mouth drops open.

"That's the real reason you tackled Gale, wasn't it? What, you want me all to _yourself_?" I almost screech in realization.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe! I knew something like this would happen if you went to Two, but I didn't even try to talk you out of it…"

I narrow my eyes at him. "This is my _life_, Peeta. I'm pregnant, and you're mad because you didn't hand pick the guy yourself? Are you crazy?"

"Yes!" Peeta exclaims, throwing his arms out. "I am _crazy_! And whose fault is _that_?"

I step back, gaping at him. "You're not really bringing that up right now, are you? I thought we were passed that!"

"How am I supposed to get passed the fact that your father broke me?" Peeta asks through gritted teeth. I narrow my eyes further. "How am I supposed to get past that when I can't even _look_ at Katniss without wanting to strangle her?"

I glare at him in warning. He hasn't spoken talk with malice towards my father in years. And now it's suddenly rising to the surface?

"Peeta, calm down," I say, my voice shaking. "You're having an attack. Just… just sit down. We can talk about this-"

"I'm not having an attack! Why can't anyone just let me get _angry_ for once?" he shouts. Even through the darkness, I can see his face growing redder by the second.

"I just don't want to fight with you tonight!" I yell in reply. "I didn't… I didn't come back to Twelve just so that I could fight with everyone."

"Then why did you come back?" Peeta asks, his voice losing venom, but still full of anger.

"Divorces are a lot cheaper here," I admit sadly, looking down at my boots. But I can still see Peeta's mouth drop open in my peripheral vision.

"Unbelievable," he mutters blankly, starting to walk away. But he stops after a few steps, and walks back to me, his face inches from mine. "You are _unbelievable_." With that, he kicks the thin tree beside me in silent fury. "Don't let Katniss know that you're only here to cheaply divorce her best friend."

This time, he walks away for good. I stare at the back of his head until he's so far away the dark night absorbs his silhouette. I'm crying, but it's unexpected. I never cry after I fight (heated argument, as he calls it) with Gale.

When you spend a long time away from someone, you begin to build this mental shrine to them because when they aren't within walking distance, they have less opportunity to make you angry, sad, or annoyed. This, of course, creates an image of that person without all of their flaws. So when you finally spend time with them, you're almost immediately disappointed that they are not what you envisioned them as.

I wonder if Peeta had this phenomenon more than I accept that I had. Maybe we're both just waiting for the other to be perfect all the time. Does that qualify as a toxic relationship? I've always sort of known that Gale and I had the kind of relationship people fight all their lives to get out of. But I never really have much thought to the relationship Peeta and I have.

Am I subconsciously waiting for him to get better one day? Because I've only ever known a sick Peeta, I don't want him to get better. Maybe my mind doesn't want to have to get to know a completely different person. Maybe that's not it at all.

Have I forgotten how to have relationships with people who aren't always sad or angry? Is this what everyone means when they say a girl has, 'daddy issues?' Am I trying to find a guy as close to my father as possible even though he was cruel to me most of my life? No. That's nonsense. I'm not that brainless. And besides, if I fell in love with someone who even remotely resembled my father, it would just give me another similarity to my mother. And that's unacceptable.

Okay think. Who have I befriended since I got out of the Capitol that wasn't at any point a gloomy cloud of sadness when I knew them? There's Kendall, I guess. But it's after midnight, and while I should visit him sometime while I'm here, I don't think it should be in the middle of the night.

Who do other people talk to when they're stressed at night? A voice in the back of my mind tells me to go inside and admit my fears to my husband, but if I did that, I'd have to explain so much. Too much.

Suddenly, I realize that even if Gale did have feelings for me in return, it wouldn't matter. He'd have feelings for a girl whose story he didn't know. But I can't tell him everything. Peeta, my best friend in the world, didn't speak to me for weeks unless it was to cut me down. If Gale found out… stacked on top of this pregnancy, our accidental marriage, _the freaking rent,_ for crying out loud… He couldn't handle this. But I can't lie to him forever. Actually, I guess that as long as Peeta doesn't tell, I can. No, lying is wrong. Don't lie.

Up until now, Gale has been pretty content only being told that I lived in Four until my parents died in the war, and I met Peeta in Thirteen during his treatment. But only two of those details are facts: my parents are dead, and I met Peeta during his treatment. Though I guess it was a completely different kind of treatment than what he assumes.

I flinch involuntarily at my past, but try to brush it off by deciding that it was just the cold wind blowing in my face. I walk back to the house Gale and I are staying in, but as slowly as possible. I feel numb. Lifeless. It isn't until I reach the steps leading to the front door of the house that the pain in my scalp registers. Have I been pulling at my hair?

"What's wrong with you?" I hear Gale ask when I enter the house. I stare at him. Through him. "Summer?"

"I need to…" I start, but he's gathered me in his arms. I don't hug him back but bury my face in his shirt, trying to make myself relax.

"What's wrong?" Gale asks again. I don't look up, but my gaze instead tilts towards the floor somberly.

"Nobody wants me, do they?" I say. There's a moment of quiet.

"That's not true. I want you," he whispers. My heart leaps but my mind suffocates the feeling. He's not saying it the way I want him to. He's saying as a, "You need to stick around and pay your half of the rent," sort of way.

"Doubt it," I spit, more to myself than to him. "I'm nothing special. I'm no _Mockingjay_. Everybody wants a piece of the Mockingjay."

He doesn't reply, and I don't blame him. Well, I do blame him. I hate him for not replying. I just want to run away forever.

"What?" Gale asks, his voice raising an octave. My eyebrows pull together. Did I say that out loud?

"Just forget about it," I tell him, scraping my palms against my face to rub the tears away. "I'll see you in the morning. On the down low."

Something about what I say obviously doesn't sit right with Gale, but he'll get over it. He's probably already plotting to get Katniss to fall in love with him. I wonder if he knows that she's engaged yet. I could always tell him. It'd break his heart in half.

"Goodnight," he says as I walk up the stairs, headed towards my bedroom. I almost lose my numbness for a moment, but it strangles me without my permission. So I keep walking until I reach my room. I leave the door open, but turn out the light and fall onto the bed without another sound.

I'm woken up by the sound of footsteps in my room, walking to the window beside me. The curtains are opened, and oranges and pinks of dawn stream in. My eyes open, almost without my permission, to find Gale going to the other side of my bed and opening those curtains as well.

"What are you doing?" I ask. Stupid question. It's obvious.

"You're not well, Summer," he replies. I purse my lips in defiance.

"I'm fine," I argue.

"I thought so too. You told me the nightmares went away," Gale says with a stern expression. Frowning at him, I sit up. I don't remember waking up last night from nightmares, but I do remember the nightmares themselves.

"I've got it under control," I tell him. He rolls his eyes.

"That's not what it sounded like last night. Do you want to talk?"

"Of course I want to talk. But if I talk, you'll just get angrier at me, and to be honest, I can't handle that right now."

He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed beside me. "I know that I haven't been fair to you lately. It's just… There's so much stress trying to pay for the house, and meals, and everything. And when we found out you were pregnant, I… You know that I had to practically raise my siblings when I was younger. And I love them more than anything, but when I moved to Two, it was to get away from that kind of responsibility."

I look down at my lap, unsure of what to say. Gale and I haven't had anything even close to this kind of heart-to-heart conversation in months – maybe in over a year. Most of our exchanges, even before all the recent drama, weren't very personal. Occasionally, we'd talk about past experiences with family or other relationships, mine being very limited. Other than that, we stuck to laughing at each other, bickering, and talking about money.

"I'm not angry at you," he continues. "And I know I've said some things that made it seem like I wouldn't be here for you, but I am." Gale pauses, and I realize that his face looks tense – not that he's ever not tense around me anymore, but there's something different about it now. "I don't want to get a divorce."

I stare at him incomprehensively. "What?"

"I don't want this kid to have the same life I did. He'll need a father."

I shake my head. "W-What if I don't _want_ to be married to you?" I stammer, looking down. "This needs to be a two-way thing, and I'm not sure that I ever want to be married, period."

"But I thought you-"

"It's a teenage _infatuation_, you idiot! I wasn't telling you that I _loved_ you!" I yell, throwing my hands up. I feel suddenly relieved. I'd been dying to explain this to him for weeks, but I never had the opportunity. "And I wouldn't have said anything at all that day if you hadn't almost kissed me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gale lies. I glare at him. "Don't look at me like that!"

"What are you hiding?" I ask, my eyes widening as I replay my conversation with Peeta last night over and over in my head. "Gale?"

When he doesn't respond, I throw the covers off of my body, and stomp to the dresser across the room. I grab a pair of jeans and a sweater before running into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, I'm dressed, my hair is brushed, I'm fully awake, and I'm stamping downstairs and out the door, with Gale following closely behind me.

"Listen Summer, it's not what you think," he tries to say.

"He went too far this time," I tell Gale, stopping in my tracks to turn around and look at him. "Don't you get it? _This_ –" I throw my arms out dramatically "– is all his fault! And you let him get away with it for so long. Not anymore."

"As much as I want to see you kick Mellark's ass, I'm going to have to stop you right there," he says, putting his hands on my shoulders. "I never told you how I felt because _you_ scared me. Not him."

"What?" I gasp for air after practically running almost the whole way to Katniss's house.

"Katniss is the only girl I've ever really loved. And even though she obviously doesn't need me, it still scares the hell out of me to think about loving someone else," he pants, also recovering from the journey outside. I'll give him credit, he can run pretty fast. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at this emotional crap."

I stare at him in awe. There's no way he's telling me the truth. No one is that good of an actor. But why would he lie now? Maybe he's trying to trick me into staying married to him to save money. It's all about the money with him.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes for a few seconds before saying, "Back home, I was getting drunk every night to avoid the nightmares. I was drunk when I told you I had feelings for you, and I was drunk the night before that, and the night before that. That's where all our money went. Are you sure you can be married to a drunk?"

He rolls his eyes at me, but I can tell he's surprised by the news. "You're not a drunk."

"Not anymore!" I confirm. "I'm not careless enough to keep drinking while I'm pregnant, even this early on. But you need to know that the nightmares are back, and they probably aren't going to go away any time soon."

"Okay," Gale says. I raise an eyebrow at him. "I kind of had my suspicions but… Summer, if the nightmares are that bad-"

"I don't need any help," I snap. I bite my tongue, then speak again quietly, "I'm going inside. It's freezing out here."

"So we're not going to City Hall?" he asks, as I walk back to the house.

"Not this time," I call back to him without stopping.

_This is not smart_, a part of my mind whispers.

_You're not smart_, the other part retaliates poorly.

In truth, my conversations with Gale in the past sixteen hours have been extremely confusing and potentially misleading. He mentioned he had feelings for me but didn't know how to tell me. But then, he could've just been speaking about girls in general, and not me. He also asked what the point of his life was if I wasn't in it? What's that supposed to mean? I'm suddenly regretting my departure from Gale last night to talk to Peeta. I could've found out what he meant right there.

On the bright side, he seems to be legitimately supportive of this pregnancy – which is refreshing. Until now the other person besides me who truly accepted this pregnancy for what it was, was the doctor who'd confirmed it in the first place. Also, Gale didn't seem angry about my drinking problem. Well, my nightmares were the problem – drinking was the solution.

My mind tosses around everything he's ever said to me from the night of the Spring Festival, to every day in Two, to now. Maybe my assumptions that he liked me back weren't so farfetched after all. But that means that he intentionally hurt me for the past few months by lying about his feelings. Or maybe this is all just an act because he found out that Katniss and Peeta are engaged!

Don't over think this, Summer. Gale wouldn't use you. Even if you're still somehow managing to misread things, he's your friend. He's your husband, for goodness' sakes! Well, you're married to him. Actually no, you just signed a bunch of papers that legalize a union between the two of you. 'Husband' and 'married' are words that are too… spiritual and romantic for this situation.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table an hour later, debating whether or not I have the energy to cook anything when there's quiet knock on the archway between the dining room and kitchen. I look up to see Peeta standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at me through the hair that drapes over his eyes messily. I don't stiffen like I would've expected myself to, but I'm still surprised to see him.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night. About your father," Peeta tells me. I blink.

"Don't be sorry for how you feel," I reply, my voice relaxed. I'm less on edge, now that I know Gale is on my side, and that we have a few hundred dollars available since we're no longer divorcing. I didn't think I'd ever feel this casual again.

"I still shouldn't have said it," he argues. "At least, not to you."

I look down. "I overreacted. Time has made me forget how much he hurt me. It made me forget how much how many lives he was willing to sacrifice to maintain power. But I shouldn't forget."

"Who cares about what you _should_ do?" Peeta asks, sitting across from me at the table. He's staring at me with a passion I haven't seen in his eyes for years. "Do what gets you through the day."

We're silent for a minute as I let his words sink in.

"Gale and I have decided to give this marriage thing a chance," I let him know timidly. "We've still got a lot more to talk about, but I think this is what's best for everyone."

I expect Peeta to throw a tantrum like he sometimes (always) likes to when I don't tell him what he wants to hear, but he just nods. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want," he says. I smile softly. "I mean, Hawthorne's got to go, but you can stay."

I laugh at him. "Hey, I'm technically Hawthorne now too," I tease. Peeta rolls his eyes. "Well, I can't very well go by Snow, can I?"

"What have you used before now?" he asks.

"It's complicated," I state wearily. "Everyone in my family is given an alias in case of emergency. You know, in case one or all of us have to go into hiding. We have whole lives in the Districts that are completely fake. So, my name was Summer Dashner. And all my fake records were pulled up by the computers: the time I supposedly checked into the Reapings each year, my fake parent's names, my fake family tree, my fake school grades, my fake childhood… Gale doesn't really ask about my past, so I've only had to lie a few times."

"But if you married Gale under false pretenses, the marriage isn't valid, right?"

I shake my head. "That's not really how it works."

Peeta looks down at the table in thought, and I hold my breath. "Gale makes you happy?"

Now it's my turn to look down, but it's with a fond smile. "Do you think it's crazy that I might be falling in love with him?" I ask.

"Well, you're already married so you might as well," he considers a bit dryly. I don't think he's completely supportive of Gale and me, but he's putting on quite the brave face. Even though he upset me last night (more than I'd care to admit), he's not a bad person. He just wants to make sure that everyone is safe and happy.

"I've been thinking," I start, but then I pause. I talk myself out of saying anything twice, but the need is too strong, and Peeta seems expectant. "Do you think this –_our_ – friendship is healthy?"

Peeta scoffs. "I don't have _any_ healthy relationships, but at least yours gives me the least headaches."

I blink. "It hasn't gotten any better?" I ask, referring to his attacks.

"It's day by day. Sometimes, I can spend all day with Katniss without thinking anything of it. But other days… Like when she was really ill, there were these moments of sickening hope that she would just…" He sighs, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

"Hey," I say, snatching one of his hands off his face, forcing him to look at me. "That's not you. You're not like that."

"I am now," he argues sourly.

I shake my head, struggling to find words. "No, you're not. You just… Peeta, you're a good person. You're an _amazing_ person. Do you love Katniss?"

"Yes," he answers quietly.

"Remember that," I tell him. "Hold onto that. Also, stop changing your medication doses. It's obviously not doing you any good."


End file.
